If These Walls Could Talk
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Sixth in the "Brutus" series. Even a temporary home is home to a fugitive wanted by the government, an attempt at a semi-normal life; but what happens when it's time to leave that home behind?
1. Chapter 1: Crash Landing

If These Walls Could Talk

Author's note: Well here we are again. Try as I might, it seems I just can't stay away from adding to this series. In following up the last story, "Comfort and Joy", I decided to do a series of short stories in one, about life and times between the members of the A-Team in Hannibal's apartment before he moves out. Hope everybody enjoys.

1. Crash Landing

From the other side of the bathroom door could be heard the muffled sounds of Hannibal talking to Murdock, and Murdock making a lot of moaning, groaning, yelping noises.

"Hold still, Murdock."

"Ouch! I'm trying, Colonel."

"Hang on, I've almost got it."

"Ah-OW-ouch!"

"It's alright, it's out now."

Murdock could be heard whining like a hurt dog before he responded, "Thanks, Hannibal."

"I think that's all of them."

"Thank God for small favors," Murdock groaned.

The next sound coming from the bathroom was the water running for the tub.

"I'll be right back," Hannibal told Murdock.

"Okay, Colonel," Murdock replied in a winding-down tone, as if it alone spoke volumes about his own exhaustion.

Hannibal opened the door and stepped out into his apartment living room and saw Jean Rhodes seated on the couch, clutching Murdock's leather jacket in her hands as though it were a direct lifeline to him. She'd brought Murdock to his apartment about an hour ago, Murdock had blood on his clothes, she was about out of her mind with panic, and between the two of them he'd gotten a partial story about how it had happened. Hannibal had ordered Murdock into the bathroom to examine him and had ordered Jean to stay in the living room by the phone incase they needed to call the others, he hadn't spoken to her since and she looked ready to hit the ceiling. When she saw Hannibal emerge from the bathroom she sucked in a breath and automatically began to rise from the couch, dreading the bad news.

"He's alright," Hannibal explained, "For the most part anyway, it's nothing serious."

She blinked a few times and her mouth fell open in disbelief, "But all that blood..."

"They were shallow cuts, look worse than they are, he's going to be fine," he assured her.

"I want to see him," Jean started towards the bathroom.

Hannibal grabbed her and stopped her before she could reach the door and he gently pushed her back and explained, "I don't think that'd be a very good idea right now."

"Hannibal…"

"Look, I already cleaned out most of Murdock's wounds but he's going to soak in the tub for a while and make sure everything's cleaned out," he spoke calmly to her and explained, "Now I want you to stay out here while I help him in, got it?"

Jean looked to the floor and said dismissively, "Alright, Hannibal."

He smiled at her and patted her cheek and told you, "You're a good kid, now you stay out here and I'll be back in a minute to give you the gory details."

Jean nodded and hugged Murdock's jacket against her, though Hannibal wasn't sure if she even knew she was holding onto it or not. He went back into the bathroom and shut the door, but it didn't close all the way. As the taps were turned off, Jean took a couple steps forward and was able to look in and see Hannibal holding Murdock under his armpits helping him slowly sit down in the tub; the Captain was already halfway in and up to his chest in bubble bath. The whole time Murdock was making a bunch of little noises of pain, "Oof…eeh! Ahh…yipe! Eek, ahh…" finally he seemed to relax in the hot water.

"You alright, Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock leaned back against the tub and replied, "Affirmative, Colonel."

"Alright, I'll be outside, yell if you need any help," Hannibal told him.

"Will do," Murdock called as he sank further back against the tub.

Hannibal pulled the door shut and rejoined Jean in the living room, who by now had made her way back to the couch and had set his jacket aside.

"I could've done that," she told him.

Hannibal stopped and stretched and scratched himself before sitting down in his chair and responded, "I know you could've, but I think he prefers it if you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jean asked.

"Did Murdock tell you how he got hurt?" Hannibal asked.

"No, he just said he had to see you," Jean answered.

"Uh-huh, well apparently what happened was Face had managed to scam him a chopper that he could do some practice moves in, but there was something wrong with the chopper, and Murdock had to bail out. His landing would've been alright, he was low enough to the ground that he didn't have too far to fall, but he hit a piece of ground that was full of jagged rocks, that's how he got those cuts and scrapes…he wouldn't have been so badly off, _except_ when he finally stopped rolling down the hill and came to a complete stop, it was into a thorn bush."

"Oh!" Jean replied.

"You see that's _why_ he came here," Hannibal told her, "A lot of the injuries he got in the crash landing were to the backs of his legs and…" he cleared his throat, "A bit higher up in the same general region. I know it probably doesn't mean much to you, but my men are used to if they suffer _personal_ injuries, having _me_ be the one to examine them. And as it turned out, he still had a few thorns stuck in him, I had to get the tweezers and dig them out."

"Are you sure you got them all?" Jean asked.

"We'll be able to better tell once he's out of the tub," Hannibal said.

Jean bit the inside of one cheek and said, "I suppose I understand then, but I still don't get why I couldn't be in there with him."

Hannibal smiled at her and said, "It's not something I'd expect you to understand, I know that you're an adult and old enough to do anything you've a mind to…and being a woman, you will," he teased her, "But regardless of this fact, I think that Murdock has a hard time seeing you as an adult."

"Why would he do that?" Jean asked.

Hannibal looked at her and he tried not to laugh. She had recently gotten a haircut that left her red hair trimmed down extremely short like a boy's and she was dressed in a cut up T-shirt a size too large and a pair of denim overalls that likewise could've fitted a second person, and on her feet were a pair of red Chuck Taylors that were already seeing a considerable amount of wear and tear.

"I guess you just have a certain _kid sister_ charm to you," he pointed out, "_Quite_ a bit different from most women we see on a regular basis."

"Ah, you mean like those seat cushions Face is always bringing around," she said.

"Something like that, yes," Hannibal told her.

"But you're sure Murdock's going to be okay?" she asked again.

"Well…" Hannibal scratched his chin, "I think he'll need to sit on a pillow for the next couple of days but aside from that, he'll be fine, we just have to remember to check his cuts and make sure they're clean."

"I can do that," Jean said.

"Uh…you'll take the top half," he corrected her, "_I'll_ deal with the rest of what he can't see, or reach."

"Hannibal," Jean reached behind the couch and picked something up from off the inn table. It was a framed Polaroid photograph of a house, more specifically it was a house that Murdock had wanted to buy for the guys so they finally had an official home, _one_ home, one _permanent_ home, no more apartments, no more scammed places, just a house big enough for all of them so they could be together for a change. "Now you said that you thought this would be a great place for the three of you to live at, and it's already been paid for and Face and B.A. are already getting their stuff packed up to move in, so _when_ are you going to be joining them?"

Hannibal seemed to dismiss the question, but finally he told Jean, "I still have a couple of months left on my lease and I'd like to get my deposit back."

Jean laughed and shook her head, "Hannibal, I think it's safe to say your deposit flew out the window a _long_ time ago."

Hannibal shrugged with a small smirk on his face and told her, "The place isn't much but it's been my home since I moved in a few years ago, got a lot of good memories here."

"Plenty of bad as well I'm sure," Jean said.

"Well," Hannibal shrugged again, "Been good, been better, can't complain too much."

"You're actually gonna miss this place when you move?" she asked.

"Could be," he answered as he looked up to the ceiling, "It's certainly beaten alternatives like a cell at Fort Bragg or a bamboo cage at the Hanoi Hilton."

He looked over to the couch when he got no response and saw Jean had shifted her gaze to the floor.

"That was a joke, kid," he told her.

"Oh."

From the bathroom they could hear a sound of something falling followed by Murdock letting out a painful yell.

"Uh-oh," Hannibal got to his feet and told Jean, "I'll be back."

Hannibal put his ear to the bathroom door and called in, "Murdock, you alright?"

"Ow…"

Hannibal opened the door and saw Murdock's body was contorted over the bathtub as he'd apparently slipped and grabbed hold of the side to keep from falling straight to the floor.

"You okay, Captain?"

Murdock had both hands in a white knuckled grip on the side of the tub as he tried to straighten himself up and said slowly, "Yeah, fine, just found that bar of soap the hard way."

Hannibal grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around Murdock as he helped the pilot straighten up and step over the edge of the tub and onto the floor mat.

"Jean still here?" Murdock asked.

"Yeah, she's out in the living room," Hannibal told him.

Murdock made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and said, "I guess I scared her pretty bad earlier, huh?"

"Well I think she got a little shook up," Hannibal tried to downplay it, "But she knows now it wasn't as bad as it looked."

Murdock groaned and Hannibal stopped trying to move him, the pilot pressed his hand against the wall for support as he said, "I guess I should've told her what happened when she came to pick me up…but I…I just didn't feel right discussing it with her, ya know, Colonel?"

Hannibal nodded, "Yeah, I know…"

Murdock huffed and puffed a couple of times, trying to catch his breath and he said, "You know, Colonel, this reminds me a bit of one of your last movies. I don't remember if it was Aquamaniac IV or V, remember the time the Aquamaniac was trying to kill the girl, but instead her boyfriend got in the way and you didn't kill him, but you bit a chunk out of him?"

"Uh-huh," Hannibal answered.

Murdock hissed as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said, "That's kind of how I feel right now, just like I'm in that movie…the movie…uh oh."

"What's wrong?" Hannibal asked concernedly.

Murdock reached a hand back to where the towel covered his legs and said, "I think a squib just broke."

"Alright, let me see, Murdock," Hannibal said.

Murdock reached both hands behind and started to lift the towel up and sensed Hannibal kneel down to take a look, "How bad is it, Hannibal?"

Hannibal inspected the cuts and the puncture wounds, he felt a particularly wet spot on the back of Murdock's thigh and asked testily, "Here?"

"Yeah, how bad is it? I can take it, oh wait, no I can't," Murdock turned his head one way and then the other depending on if he thought he could stand the news, "No, I can take it, I gotta know…no, no, don't tell me, or if you do tell me, lie a little bit."

"It's alright, Murdock, it's just water," Hannibal told him.

Murdock tried craning his neck back and asked him, "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Whew," he sighed, "What a relief."

"It's a good thing you keep a spare change of clothes here," Hannibal told him as he stood up, "You won't be able to wear these again."

"You gonna throw them out?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal showed him the bloody pants with the small rips in the back, "Have to do _something_ with them…I'll be back in a minute."

Hannibal took the bloody clothes out and returned a minute later with a fresh change of Murdock's clothes. Once he got dressed, he slowly padded out into the living room where Jean was waiting for him.

"Murdock, are you alright?" she asked as she went over to him and hugged him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Saint," he said, then hissed and told her, "Careful, careful, don't bruise the merchandising."

Jean grabbed the front of his shirt and started to lift it up and said, "I want to see how bad it is."

"Afraid I'll disappoint you," he told her.

Jean looked and saw the cuts on his stomach and chest, by now, looked little worse than cat scratches. "Tell me it's not worse than it looks."

"Naw, it's fine," he assured her.

"Captain," Hannibal said, "Since I don't think you're in the mood for any long car rides right now, what if you two stay over for dinner tonight and relax?"

"Well it's alright with me," Murdock turned to Jean and asked her, "How about you?"

"Is Hannibal cooking?" Jean asked cynically.

"Ha ha," he replied, "Very funny."

"It's still early for dinner though," Murdock noted, "Can we watch the TV for a while?"

"Sure," Hannibal told him.

They went over to the couch, Jean sat down, Murdock started to but let out a small yelp, got back up and grabbed a pillow to place under him first.

"You sure you're alright, Murdock?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he assured her with a small smile, "Just gonna be resembling a pincushion for the next few days."

"Not for the first time either," Hannibal told Jean as he sat down in the chair beside the couch, "But that's a story for another time."

"Yes, preferably when I'm not around to hear it," Murdock replied.


	2. Chapter 2: A Piece of Cake

2. A Piece of Cake

The small apartment felt unusually cramped tonight as everybody sat around or took turns pacing the floor. Outside it was dark, inside it was dimly lit and warm and everybody's nerves were hanging by their last thread. Face was the one wearing a hole in the floor currently, B.A. sat in Hannibal's chair and Amy, Jean, and Murdock were sardined on the couch.

"What time is it?" Amy asked.

Murdock checked his watch and said, "8:40."

"And what time did Hannibal say he'd be home tonight?" Amy asked.

"7 o' clock," Jean answered, "I say we eat without him."

"We _can't_ do that," Face told her.

"Sure we can," she said, "We won't touch the dinner, we'll just eat everything else that's in the icebox, with his budget that won't take much doing."

"You think something could've happened to him?" Amy asked.

"To Hannibal?" Murdock scoffed, "_Nothing_ could happen to him."

"Why, because he's too smart?" Amy asked.

"Because he's too mean," Jean told her.

Murdock got up from the couch, went over to the window and looked down to the street below. All of a sudden he straightened up like a cat arching its back and he said, "There he is!"

"Are you sure?" Face asked.

"Sure I'm sure, he's down there!" Murdock said.

"Oh great, now we can eat," Jean said.

"First thing's first, come on," Face told them.

Murdock opened the window and climbed out onto the ledge and shimmied his scrawny self down the drain pipe, beating the others down to the street by a good 30 seconds.

Down on the next block Hannibal was slowly trudging back to his apartment after a particularly _exhausting_ day. After spending 10 hours running around the movie lot in a rubber suit, he'd gone down to the cemetery to visit with his parents and wound up staying longer than he'd intended. A bit out of character, he was puffing on a cigarette as he walked, his eyelids suddenly felt like each was a 20 pound sack of potatoes, all he wanted to do was get to his apartment, have a beer, and crash for the night. He knew he'd be alone, he'd already inquired about the others' plans for the night to make sure he wouldn't be disturbed: Face had a hot date with the latest woman he was seeing, B.A. was doing last minute repairs to the van, and Murdock was busy with Billy's semi-annual flea and tick bath, _and_ delousing.

It was very rare that Hannibal Smith ever let his guard down, but tonight he did, and that was why he didn't hear the sneakered feet creeping up behind him, and then…

"Hey!" he got out when somebody grabbed him from behind and covered his eyes.

"Surprise, Colonel!" Murdock said as he blindfolded the older man.

"Murdock," Hannibal turned towards the voice, his own clearly expressing his minor annoyance, "What're you doing?"

"I got a surprise for you, Hannibal."

"Murdock, you know I don't like surprises, especially when they're about me," he said.

"Ohhh I think you'll like this one, Colonel, come on, walk this way," Murdock said as he started pushing Hannibal up the sidewalk, "Don't worry, it's gonna be a piece of cake."

His own words used against him. Behind the blindfold Hannibal rolled his eyes, he had a feeling that this wasn't good, and that it wasn't going to end well.

Hannibal heard other people walking nearby, and he had a good idea that more people were involved than just his Captain. He made his way in the door and up the three flights of stairs, not so amazingly with little help because he had the whole layout of the building memorized like the back of his hand. He heard a door open and he knew they were walking into his apartment.

"Alright, so what's the surprise?" he asked.

The blindfold was removed and the lights were thrown on as he heard several people yelling, "Surprise!"

He sure was, alright. His apartment had been ransacked with a minor touch of birthday décor with metallic screamers and birthday banners and cardboard signs put up on the walls and at the top of the doorways. On the kitchen table was a tray full of well done steaks, another tray of baked potatoes stacked in a pyramid, a dish full of steaming asparagus, a large bowl of tossed salad, a plate of dinner rolls likewise in a pyramid, and a bottle of expensive wine. Murdock ran over to the countertop, did something that Hannibal couldn't see, and when the pilot turned around he was carrying a large cake with a bunch of candles lit on top.

"Of course we couldn't put the _full_ amount of candles on it or we'd burn the whole building down," Face commented.

"Ha ha," Hannibal replied.

"Come on, Hannibal, make a wish and blow out the candles before Murdock starts singing," Jean said.

"Oh alright," Hannibal watched as the pilot set the frosted conflagration on the table, then blew on the candles with enough force to put all but two of them out. From his pocket, Murdock produced an old candle snuffer and used it to extinguish the remaining flames.

"So what'd you wish for?" Amy asked.

"It's bad luck to say what you wish for," Hannibal told her.

He suddenly became aware of five people crowded around him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"So how old are you today, Hannibal?" Amy asked.

He noticed everybody else was staring at him with the same inquisitive look, and he knew there was no getting around it.

"Well let me think," he said theatrically as he folded his arms and looked upward, "I was 18 when I went to Korea, that was a little over 30 years ago so that would make me…"

"39," the others said.

Hannibal chuckled, "You know me too well."

"No, we all grew up watching Jack Benny," Jean replied.

Hannibal looked over the buffet and realized how long it had to have taken to get all this put together. He looked at them with a hint of amusement readable on his face and he shook his head, "You guys had this all planned."

"Yeah and we about starved to death waiting for you to get home," Face said.

"Ironic since we all worried you'd be home before everything was done cooking," Jean added.

"Well what's everybody waiting for?" Hannibal asked, "Let's eat."

Before the clock on the wall struck 9, the entire meal and three quarters of the birthday cake were gone without a trace; Murdock rounded up the dirty plates and dumped them in the sink to wash later, then they took Hannibal into the living room to give him his presents. One by one everybody disappeared into the bedroom and came back carrying something wrapped for him. Face went first, his present to Hannibal was a new case of expensive cigars, something the Colonel could never have enough of, then Murdock gave him his present, Hannibal was slightly confused when he took the lid off the box and saw a teddy bear inside.

"It's very nice, Murdock," he said assuredly.

"That's not the real gift, it's inside of it," Murdock said.

Hannibal turned the bear upside down and saw a Velcro patch on the bottom, he pulled it up and reached into the sealed stuffing and pulled out a new nickel plated Smith and Wesson.

"Happy birthday, Colonel," Murdock said.

Hannibal grinned and replied, "Thanks, Murdock, this is great."

B.A. was next. He carried a large box over to the table and dropped it on, the vibrations of the table indicating that whatever it was, it was heavy. Hannibal yanked the ribbon off the top and it took the lid off the box, and laughed when he saw that it was about 50 boxes of assorted ammunition for his guns.

"Perfect gift for the man who has everything," Hannibal said as he picked up a few boxes and examined them, "Thanks, B.A."

"Can I give him _my_ present now?" Jean asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Yeah go ahead," Face said.

Jean picked up her package and took it over to Hannibal and dropped it in his lap.

"Well I know it's not a bowling ball," he said cynically. Looking at Jean he could see her teeth gritted together even through her closed mouth, whatever it was, it was obvious she was anxious for him to like it.

He ripped through the paper and saw it was a shoe box, or rather boots. Taking the lid off he felt his eyes grow to twice their size when he saw the ostrich skin boots, _just_ like the ones he'd been forced to leave behind, and then went back for, at Jamestown.

"Hey…" he looked to her, "How did you…"

"I remember Face saying you ruined yours when you came running into the sea after us when we bailed out of the chopper last year," Jean said, "I hope they're the right ones."

"How did you…" Hannibal was cut off before he could ask the $900 question.

"Colonel, it's not a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know that," Murdock said.

Hannibal looked back at the Captain and was left speechless for a moment, finally he gestured as if surrendering and said, "Alright…" he turned to Jean and told her, "Thanks, Jean, this is a real surprise alright. So that just leaves…Amy."

Amy smiled sadly and told him, "Sorry, Hannibal, I've got to get to work early tomorrow so I'm afraid I'll have to cut out early."

"Aww," Hannibal crooned exaggeratedly.

Amy took her gift over to him and told him, "Here, you can open it after I'm gone and tell me tomorrow what you think of it."

"Okay, I'll do that," he replied.

Jean tapped Face on the shoulder and asked him, "What did Amy get Hannibal?"

Face shrugged, "I don't know."

* * *

Hannibal waited until the others had passed out from too much wine or too much food or too much of whatever it was that put B.A. to sleep before he decided to open Amy's present. For some reason he got the impression that there was more to her leaving and leaving her present behind unopened than just what she was telling him.

The present lay on the table where he'd left it after she'd gone. He could tell that under the blue striped paper it was a small flat box, weighed almost nothing at all. Using the technique he'd mastered as a child on Christmas morning, he ripped into the paper and saw it _was_ a flat little box. Hannibal was starting to really wonder what it was, Amy had been around all of them long enough that he wouldn't put it past her putting those peanut brittle snakes into the box and then popping in to see if he jumped. He pulled the lid off and saw a note on top of a sheet of paper encased in a plastic sleeve.

He peeled the note off first to read it. In Amy's handwriting it said, "Rancher? Nice try, Hannibal." He picked up the paper in the bottom of the box and scanned it over.

"I'll be damned," he said.

It was a new copy of an announcement from a very old newspaper from right there in California, the copy had even had the paper's yellow and brown age stains transfer onto the new paper. Saying only, 'On this date, born to Mr. and Mrs. John Smith, a 9-pound boy', and it was enough. That's how it was back then, short, simple and to the point, they didn't bother with pictures, or even the children's names…of course, he didn't remember the rule being that you _had_ to name your kid the minute he came into the world squawking. Still, John Smith III, how long could his parents _possibly_ have spent deciding on a name? Of course…if his mother had had any say in it…no, if that were the case he would've been named something else entirely, her say had to have been the same as his father's.

There was something else that had been copied here; an older announcement, dated a couple of years before his birth, a wedding announcement for the newly pronounced Mr. and Mrs. John Smith. These of course were much longer than birth announcements, had to say who got married, who their families were, what time of the day they got married, where they got married, who was in the band, where the reception was. Except, Hannibal noted, there wasn't all of that here. When his folks had gotten married they were still a couple of poor folks from vaudeville when vaudeville was still king. Actually by the time they'd got married, his father had already made the transition from vaudeville to early Hollywood, just starting to break in to the film industry, and learning how to carry over what he'd learned from one profession and make it work in the other. But they'd still been poor, no band, little reception and they'd gotten married in a judge's living room, but it had been good enough for them.

They were happy people, in spite of being poor, in spite of living in a place where their lives were threatened on a regular basis by every drunk, tramp and crook who tried busting into their home, as he'd been a witness to many times as a kid, in spite of everything; of course maybe it helped that his mother liked brandy and his father liked everything from beer to whiskey. Never in excess though, or rather _in_ excess, but not to the point of exceeding, his whole career was in being able to maintain himself and knowing when and how to keep or lose his balance at the drop of a hat, nothing could interfere with that, not even his favorite whiskey. Hannibal blinked as he recalled all the things he'd learned from his father, and how long it had been since he'd actually thought about the fact that so many things he used and did in his day to day life, all came from that man.

Hannibal fell back in his chair, clutching the paper in his hand and laughing to himself. He should've known better than to dare a news reporter to find out his history, who better than someone who could access the archives going back as far as California had newspapers? Hannibal got up and went over to a small inn table in the dining room and picked up a framed photograph he'd had taken a while back. All his children: Face, B.A., Murdock, Amy and Jean, the _only_ picture of all of them he allowed in this apartment, much easier to hide or destroy if the MPs came nosing around. Hannibal smiled at Amy in the corner of the photo, and said to it, "Thanks, kid."

Well, maybe spending his birthday with company instead of alone as originally planned, wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3: Screaming in the Bathtub

3. Screaming in the Bathtub

Hannibal leaned back against the white fiberglass tub in his bathroom as he let out a moan of content; the hot water felt good against the minor cuts and scratches he'd sustained from a fight that occurred earlier that day. It wasn't the half a dozen 200 pound goons that gave him trouble, it was falling back against a very large tree with bark that was very chipped and didn't mind trying to cut him up like a pizza. It was 3 o' clock in the afternoon now, he had a date with Maggie that night at 7 so he wanted to make himself presentable; the woman hadn't seen him for a couple of months and he was intent on showing her that on occasion he could peel away his safari jacket and marching boots and look semi-presentable for a night on the town.

There was a knock at the door and Hannibal pulled himself up and asked, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Hannibal," Face's voice came through from the other side.

"What is it?"

"Can I come in?"

Hannibal decided to have a little fun at his lieutenant's expense, "What?"

"I said can I come in?"

"What?" he repeated.

"_Can I come in_?"

"I can't hear you, Face, why don't you come on in?" Hannibal asked, choking back a chuckle.

The doorknob turned, the door slowly opened and Face stood in the doorway with an annoyed look on his face, "Ha-ha, very funny, Hannibal."

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Hannibal asked as he felt along the bottom of the tub for the bar of soap he'd been using. It must've been dissolving this whole time because the whole surface of the water was already white.

"Hannibal, why do you have to take _my_ car for your date tonight?"

"Because I think Maggie would appreciate that better than me picking her up in B.A.'s van," Hannibal told him.

"Oh that reminds me," Face said, "B.A. wants to know where you left his tools this time."

"Oh yeah, I knew I forgot something," Hannibal said, "Uh, where is he?"

"Downstairs in the basement trying to figure out why the heat's stuck on." A thought occurred to Face and he said to Hannibal, "Don't tell me that you left his tools behind on the job again."

"No, I didn't," Hannibal said, "I gave them to Murdock."

"Oh _that_ makes me feel better," Face said, "Having to give B.A. a message like that."

"It's no problem, just find Murdock and ask him what he did with the tools," Hannibal told him, "He's just downstairs on the second floor."

"Alright," Face left the bathroom and Hannibal's apartment, went to the stairwell, and went down to the next floor and found Murdock standing by one of the walls, seemingly having a conversation with a fly perched on it.

"Murdock, what did you do with B.A.'s tools?" Face asked.

"Hmm?" Murdock turned to him, "Oh…I put them under Hannibal's bed."

"What did you do that for?"

"I thought I'd keep them in a safe place," Murdock said, "And you tell me what's safer than under a bed where a Colonel sleeps with a loaded gun?"

"Oh brother," Face said as he turned around and ran back up the stairs.

"He tell you?" Hannibal called from the bathroom.

Face went over to the bathroom, opened the door and told Hannibal, "Yeah, he put them under your bed," then closed the door and proceeded to the bedroom.

He got on his stomach and crawled halfway under the bed and came back with B.A.'s large toolbox. He picked it up, and almost dropped it again, and as he wondered what all _was_ in there, he carried it out of the apartment, and down two flights of stairs to the main floor, and then opened the door to the basement and went down to where B.A. was checking out the building's furnace.

"Find the problem yet, B.A.?" Face groaned as he all but dropped the toolbox.

"Not yet, where was my tools?"

"Don't ask," Face said.

"Hey Face," B.A. said as he wiped a sheet of sweat off his forehead, "Tell Hannibal I'm probably gonna have to kill all the heat in this building to get this mess sorted out."

"Alright."

Face made his way up to the third floor again, marched into the bathroom and relayed the message to Hannibal, who sent him back down to give B.A. the go ahead.

"The man just _had_ to live in a building without an elevator in it," Face grumbled to himself, "And just _had_ to get an apartment 3 flights up."

He made it back down to the basement and told B.A. what Hannibal had said.

"Alright…hey Face, I'm missing one of my wrenches, what did that crazy fool do with it?"

Face was starting to get tired of this game of telephone tag, but he went back upstairs, found Murdock again, and asked him the question.

"Hannibal needed it for the kitchen sink," Murdock told him.

Back to the bathroom.

"If you keep this up I'm going to start taking it personally," Hannibal told him, "A man's home is his castle, and he ought to be entitled to a little privacy to go along with it."

"Murdock said you used one of B.A.'s wrenches on the sink, where is it now?" Face asked.

"In the tool drawer."

Face went into the kitchen, found the wrench, went down to the basement again, gave B.A. the wrench and figured he could collapse for a few minutes and rest, but no such luck.

"Hey Face, when we got back earlier I checked the equipment in the van, and we're missing a couple rifles, you know what happened to them?"

"No."

"Well go find out which of those two crazy men took them and find out what they did with them," B.A. said, "I know we had them when we came back here, nobody else coulda taken them."

Face grunted and groaned and went back up the stairs, by now he was starting to get more than just a little bit winded by the constant trips up and down the stairs. First he asked Murdock about it, and the pilot confessed to getting the guns out of the van and taking them up to Hannibal's room but he hadn't seen them since. So Face went back up to the third floor again, and once more interrupted Hannibal's bath to ask him.

"They were filthy," Hannibal told Face, "We had to get them cleaned, you know the drill, a dirty weapon's gonna _blow up_ in your face."

"Thank you, Sergeant Guedo," Face replied.

Hannibal leaned back against the rim of the tub and chuckled.

Once more Face made the trip all the way down to the basement and informed B.A. of what was going on. The Sergeant was relieved but not done with the Lieutenant yet, he told Face to go upstairs and call the daycare center where he worked and explain that he wouldn't be able to come in tomorrow. For a minute, Face didn't move, didn't even seem to blink, just stared at B.A. in a stone faced manner, then he yanked on two handfuls of his hair and screamed at the top of his lungs. But all the same he turned around and went back up the stairs. Once he was gone, B.A. said to himself, "Now what's the matter with that fool?"

Face figured he could just call from the phone in the ground floor hall, but apparently Murdock was talking to somebody on it.

"No, there's nobody here by that name either…this isn't a room, it's the hall phone…" he looked at the phone with an annoyed glare and said into the receiver, "Well who in the _hall_ do you want?"

Face knew this could take a while so he went upstairs, back to Hannibal's apartment, used the phone there and called the daycare center. When that was over, he went back down the stairs and told B.A. that he'd given them the message.

"Good," B.A. said, "And that reminds me, tell Hannibal I want to see him tomorrow morning when he gets back from his date."

"Whatever for?" Face asked.

B.A. tapped Face's chest with his wrench and told him, "I know that Hannibal got you working on scamming another plane, 'cuz we taking a case for those people over in South Carolina, and I want to make it clear to him that we ain't flying this time, you got that, Face?"

"Loud and clear," Face huffed as he pushed the wrench away, "I'll go tell him."

By now Face didn't have any idea how many times he'd gone up and down the stairs but this last time might as well have been climbing the Matterhorn. He was just about ready to fall down from exhaustion but he made it into the bathroom and over to the tub before he started to fall on his knees.

"What's the matter, Face?" Hannibal asked.

Face was huffing and puffing and trying to talk in between but was only able to get half the words out as he started pulling himself up again.

"B.A. wants to meet me? He wants to meet me _where?_" Hannibal asked, "You're not making any sen…" Face collapsed and fell into the front part of the tub and Hannibal kicked him reflexively and demanded to know, "_What're you doing in the tub_?!"

Face pulled himself back over the edge, by now the top half of his body was soaked clear through and covered in soap, and he was still huffing and puffing and right now would like nothing more than to disregard Hannibal as his colonel and just shoot the man. But he forced himself to calm down, but that quickly went out the window when Hannibal said to him, "Face, you're not making any sense, why don't you just have B.A. come up here so I can talk to _him_ about it?"

Face's eyes opened wide and his gritted teeth showed and his hands were balling and unballing into fists, but he left the bathroom, and this time, for the first time in many years since he was a knee high hellraiser at St. Bartholomew's Orphanage, slid down the banister to the second floor, then repeated and slid down to the first floor, and then charged down to the basement.

"B.A., Hannibal wants to see you now," he said.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," B.A. replied.

Face started back towards the stairs but stopped just as soon as he gripped the banister, and he turned back towards the Sergeant.

"B.A., when we move into our new place, do me a favor will you?" he asked, "And _put_ us in an intercom system!"


	4. Chapter 4: Late Nights

4. Late Nights

"Hannibal," the quiet voice whispered, "Hannibal?"

Hannibal opened his eyes and turned towards the voice. It was dark, it was late, this much he knew, and now Murdock was standing over him.

"What is it, Murdock?" he groggily asked, "Have another nightmare?"

He looked at the Captain and saw that he was still dressed…funny, he would've sworn Murdock had changed into his pajamas earlier in the night…or did he? For that matter, Hannibal couldn't even remember at this moment what day it was supposed to be.

"Uh, no…" Murdock said as he inched around from the foot of the bed, "I didn't have a nightmare but c..cou…could I just stay here with you for the night?"

It took Hannibal a few seconds to connect the words and realize what Murdock was asking. He turned his head to the side and saw it was 2:14 in the morning. He turned back to look up at the pilot and answered, "Sure, Murdock, mi cama es su cama," and he reached over to pull the covers down on the other side.

Murdock fiddled with his hands a few seconds as if waiting for permission to get in, then he separated his hands from each other and said, "Thanks, Colonel," and climbed into the vacant side of the bed.

"So did something happen?" Hannibal asked. He knew he had to get up in 3 hours to get to work at the set for the new Aquamaniac film but he'd run on less sleep before and probably could again if he had to now, and if there was a problem, he knew he _would_ have to.

"Ah…no, not really," Murdock said as he anxiously pulled the covers up like he was freezing.

"You sure?" Hannibal asked.

"Uh-huh…"

Hannibal tried to think of the possibilities, if it wasn't a nightmare...

"Something on your mind?"

"Oh…no more than usual."

Ah, which consisted of what, invisible dogs, space gerbils and conversations with potted plants. Still, he'd never known any of those to cause his pilot to lose any sleep. At least not like this, he may stay up all night fresh hot on a new idea that struck him as particularly interesting, but he wouldn't fidget around like this.

"Did you have a fight with Jean today?" he asked. It wasn't that he thought it weird Murdock had come over alone to stay the night, he looked forward to those such visits.

"No, no…" Murdock shook his head, "We're doing alright."

Well _that_ was always good to know. The day that woman turned on Murdock, Hannibal knew, they were all in trouble.

Another thought came to Hannibal, "Have you been talking to Dr. Richter again?"

"Uh, oh yeah, but just...just socially," Murdock explained.

Well, he was out of guesses now.

"Alright, you think you can go to sleep?" Hannibal asked.

"Sure…" Murdock answered without missing a beat.

"Alright," Hannibal leaned over, kissed Murdock on the forehead and told him, "Now go to bed, I've got to get up early tomorrow."

"Alright…g'night, Colonel," Murdock said as he turned on his side and pulled the covers up to drape over his back.

"Goodnight, Murdock."

And now the roles reversed; Murdock nodded off like a baby in five minutes, but now it was Hannibal who couldn't sleep.

This was nothing new, there had been plenty of times over the years when he was bunking with somebody, and they couldn't sleep, and if there was a reason why they couldn't sleep, either they didn't tell him or they didn't even know what it was themselves. A lot of times it was nightmares but there were also a lot of times when there didn't seem to be any reason and they just genuinely couldn't sleep. Nothing so unusual, he'd had a few bouts of insomnia in his own life, why not them too? But this wasn't that, Murdock's only aversion seemed to be that he didn't want to be alone for the night. Not that Hannibal could blame him, he wasn't always too hot on sleeping alone either. Of course, he hadn't exactly grown up spending the nights alone, like most kids he frequently occupied the middle of his parents' bed, likewise sometimes for nightmares, others just because he wanted the company. They never seemed to have any objections to it, they never kicked him out. In later years he often bunked with his father in the front room if the elder Smith suspected someone might try breaking into their home in the night, and they'd have to be ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Murdock made a noise as he moved in his sleep. He rolled over onto his other side and was practically on top of Hannibal. This was not so much of an inconvenience as when Hannibal bunked with B.A. for the night; the reason of course being because Murdock was much scrawnier than the Sergeant and only weighed about half of what B.A. did. True, it was still enough to knock the wind out of Hannibal if Murdock did much tossing and turning, but he could handle it better with the Captain because he was easier to maneuver back to his own side of the bed. But this time, Hannibal reached his arms around the scrawny pilot and pulled Murdock over to him. Ahhh, now this was familiar too. _His_ boys, that's how Hannibal always thought of the three men on the Team, _his_ boys, _his_ sons, it had taken him a while to come to that realization and a while longer to be comfortable with it. It was one thing being commander over a team in a war, but to come back to America and _still_ be the leader overseeing what was going on in the lives of his Teammates, that had been something different altogether.

As their leader, Hannibal always made sure they could never tell when _he_ was worried about something, if anybody was going to panic they couldn't afford for it to be him, and he knew that. It was only in instances like this, when they were off a job, back to their routine lives, and he was alone, especially if it was late at night, that he allowed himself to consciously think about the things that scared him. Subconsciously he tightened his hold on Murdock as he remembered all the close calls they'd had over the years, especially with the Captain. Plenty of things had happened that if he lived to be 160 he'd never forget…one thing he knew he would never forget was the time Murdock about died when terrorists firebombed the abandoned building he was in. That had been the first time that he'd actually allowed himself to believe that Murdock had died, that they all had thought the same thing. He still remembered how sick he felt when they saw the building go up in flames and never saw him come out. He never wanted to be in a position like that again, he never wanted to have _any_ reason to think that anything terrible had happened to _any_ of his boys.

There were plenty of things that Hannibal would never openly admit to any of them, and he had his own reasons for that. Murdock was very good at opening himself up and pouring everything out, that was not now nor had it ever been Hannibal's strong suit, he had a long history of keeping most things to himself. One thing he didn't have the guts to admit to any of them was how much he wished in instances like this that he could stop time and things could stay as they were. Here and now, he had Murdock tight in his arms, not so much for Murdock's sense of security but for his own, every so often the Colonel needed a reminder of what was real and that they were all alright. If he had it his way he'd never let go of Murdock, he'd never let go of _any_ of them if he had it his way. As long as they were here with him like this then he _knew_ that they'd all come back from Vietnam in one piece and alive, not just some hallucination conjured up in a fit of post traumatic stress or a fever induced daydream back in the jungle. These were the things that a Colonel never discussed with his men. Most days he could get through alright, no problem, but every so often, just as they sometimes needed a reminder that all was well, so did he.

Without even looking at the clock he knew that it had to be going on 3 o' clock and he knew he needed to get some sleep if he was going to be of any use at the movie set tomorrow. So for now, he took comfort in having one of his boys staying with him, relaxed against the mattress and pillows, let his eyes close slowly, and finally drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Skin Deep

5. Skin Deep

"So Murdock seems to be fully recovered from that little crash landing he had a while back," Jean told Hannibal one morning when she came by his apartment before he left for the studio, "And may I inquire how his 'pincushion' is doing?"

Hannibal laughed and told her, "He got lucky, I doubt there'll be any scarring."

"Oh yeah?" Jean asked.

"Yeah, just as well because he's already got a couple of pock marks from when he was a kid and had the chickenpox."

Jean cleared her throat and asked him, "Hannibal, how many scars does Murdock have?"

"That's an unusual question, why do you ask?" he asked as he turned back to look at her.

"Well what with you guys being…" Jean jerked a thumb in the direction of the left side wall, somehow Hannibal was able to figure out what she was trying to get at.

"You mean when we were in the Cong prison camp?"

"Yeah."

"Well you might be relieved to know that when we were in the camp, it wasn't as bad for us as it was for a lot of the other soldiers."

"Really?" Jean asked.

"Oh yes, I guess you might say we were rather lucky compared to a lot," Hannibal explained, "Now…_I_ was in one of Ho Chi Minh's death camps, I have a little more experience under my belt than the others…"

"And Murdock?" Jean asked.

"He was captured when the rest of us were, but the guards there mainly just liked trying to watch us starve to death, a lot of the men there didn't make it out."

"How did you?" she asked.

Hannibal smiled somberly in remembrance, "God works in mysterious ways, He sent a Vietnamese camp cook to us who sneaked food into our cells."

"Oh yeah, I think Murdock told me about that," Jean said, "That the guy that baked loaded shotguns into loaves of bread?"

Hannibal chuckled and said, "That's the one, Lin Duk Coo, it's been a while since we've seen him."

"Murdock makes him sound like a real hoot," Jean said.

"He's definitely something," Hannibal replied.

* * *

Hannibal got back to his apartment later that afternoon. Jean had left the studio early and said she may be occupying his place until he got back, so he called out when he stepped in. There wasn't any response and at first he thought maybe she'd just gone home, but he heard a faint sound coming from the bathroom, almost like someone was choking.

"Jean?" he called out, "You here?"

He could hear water running for a few seconds and then Jean came out in a rush and said, "Hannibal…I'm sorry, I broke the mirror on your medicine cabinet."

"Well it was just a cheap piece of glass, won't take anything to replace it," he told her, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she answered, looking down at the floor.

Hannibal went into the bathroom and saw the mess of broken glass everywhere. He hadn't thought to ask Jean _how_ she broke the mirror but it looked like she managed to do a real number on it, but no blood so it seemed she didn't hurt herself in the process. He looked around to see how far it went and that was when he noticed something. Jean had left her jacket in the bathroom, and also something else bunched up and tossed over the towel rack. He grabbed it and as it unraveled he saw it was some kind of fancy dress shirt, but rather low cut for her, not like her at all. Hannibal held it up to get a better look and he realized that the shirt was _very_ low cut compared to her regular clothes…he looked back to where the mirror had been and tried to picture Jean standing before it, holding the shirt up against herself, or maybe trying it on. Well, something had happened, and he was guessing what happened here wasn't an accident.

And then it all clicked.

Jean had broken the mirror on purpose in a fit of rage, and he had a good idea he knew why. He left the bathroom and found Jean still standing in the living room and he held up the shirt and asked her, "What's this? You don't usually wear something like this."

"Who're you telling?" she replied.

"Well then?"

"It's from the wardrobe department," Jean answered, "It's part of the outfit I'm supposed to wear when we start shooting…I brought it home to see if it would fit and _how_ it would fit."

"And did it?"

She snorted and replied bitterly, "Oh yeah."

Now it made sense, "It fits so it shows off a couple of things you'd rather the whole world not see."

"That's putting it lightly," Jean said as she folded her arms over her chest, Hannibal noted, a defensive move, a defense to further try hiding those scars from when she was shot.

"It's been almost 2 years now," he said, "How do they look?"

"Like scars from 2 .50 caliber bullets, how else are they going to look?" Jean asked.

Okay, he could've predicted she would be difficult, understandably, well, he was already in the middle of this, might as well go for broke.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" he asked.

"Yes-I-mind _very much_," Jean replied as she defensively stepped back.

He inched towards her, matching every step she took backwards, "Sorry Jean, but I have to see."

"No," she said as she unknowingly backed herself into the wall.

"I'm sorry, kid," Hannibal said as he reached forward and undid the top buttons on her shirt.

Jean didn't respond, she just pressed her arms back against the wall and turned her head to the side, as if trying to detach herself from this situation. After a few seconds, Hannibal pulled the sides together and closed them again.

"Well?" she asked as she turned back to see him.

Hannibal looked down at her and said, "Keep in mind B.A. was the only one who saw these when they were freshly made…that said, I've seen enough to know that they look better than they would've last year or the year before…but some scars take longer than others to finish fading, I'd say give them another year and they should be at their hardest to identify."

"It doesn't mater," Jean told him, "They're _always_ going to be there." She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and when she opened them again she told Hannibal, "I've tried…but I'm not like you, I can't wear something like this and pretend it doesn't mean anything anymore, it means a hell of a lot, Hannibal, 8 hours in surgery removing two .50 caliber slugs, 2 blood transfusions, 2 sedations, and yet for all that I still could've died very easily on that table at any time. And how the hell do I explain that when the makeup people ask what this is they're trying to cover up?"

Hannibal nodded sympathetically, "I know what you're saying, it's certainly true…come here, I'm going to show you something." He turned around and started pulling up his jacket in the back.

Jean snorted and said, "Come on, Hannibal, nobody wants to see your butt."

"No no, look back here," he said as he pulled up his shirt, "You see this scar?"

Jean contorted the top half of her body over to try and look at whatever he was pointing at, "Where?"

"Here."

"I didn't know you got liver spots on your back."

"Ha ha," he replied, and pointed again, "You see this scar here? Know what it came from?"

"Looks like a mosquito bite," Jean said.

"Bullet wound," Hannibal told her, "2 hours in surgery, 1 transfusion, _no_ sedation, only a little booze to dull the pain _and_ to sterilize the entry point. Want to guess how many years it took to reach this point?"

"You can't see it on your back," Jean said.

"But you know it's there, all the same," Hannibal replied, "Really crimps things when you try going out to the beach, not everybody is interested in hearing the exploits and near death experiences of a war Veteran. Some people like to comment that when you 'almost' died, it should've took." He put his shirt and jacket down and added as he turned around, "And you always remember _how_ you got them…the scars will fade but the memories don't, that I also know."

"But you're a solider, you _can_ explain how you got yours," Jean told him, "What the hell am I supposed to tell people? Nobody at the studio knows anything about me, they don't know what happened to me, and I'm not about to tell them."

"I know," Hannibal said. He took two steps towards her, put one strong arm around her and patted her back with his other hand as he told her, "I'm sorry."

* * *

Hannibal answered the knock at the door and saw Murdock standing in the doorway looking confused.

"I got your message, what's the matter?" he asked.

"I think you need to talk to Jean," Hannibal told him.

"What about?" Murdock asked.

"Well," Hannibal said as he gave the pilot a little shove towards the bedroom, "I think it'd be better if she told you about it."

Murdock reached his arms out and pushed back against the doorframe to back up and he told Hannibal, "You can't just send me in there unprepared, I need to know what this is about so I can cheat and have an answer ready when I go in."

"Alright, but when you go in there, don't let on that you know anything," Hannibal told him, "Right now Jean's feeling a little self conscious about her scars and I think that that you factor into this equation somehow."

"How bad is it?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal walked him over to the bathroom and showed him the shards of glass on the floor from when the mirror broke.

"I see," Murdock nodded stiffly as he turned and walked towards the bedroom, "If I'm not out in…six hours, send in a rescue party."

Hannibal saluted him and saw him off. Murdock tapped on the door before entering. One thing he noticed that was unusual was that the room was dark. The curtains were drawn, the blinds were down, and the lights were out. Jean sat on the corner of Hannibal's bed looking like she was about ready to bounce off the walls.

"Hey Saint," he said, trying to sound friendly and not suspicious, "What's going on?"

Jean took in a deep breath and made considerable movement in her chest and she huffed it out and told him dismissively, "Oh nothing, I've just had a bad day and I think I took it out on Hannibal…let's get out of here." She hopped up from the bed and made for the door.

He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back and asked, "You got a migraine?"

"No, why?"

Murdock gestured to the fact that the room was in almost total darkness.

"Oh that," she said.

Murdock patted her on her shoulder and asked her, "What's the matter, hon?"

Jean fidgeted with her hands and her face twitched on one side and then the other as if she was fighting with herself not to say. One hand reached up and gripped her shirt just under its collar as if she was still trying to hold it shut. Murdock stood on his toes and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead and he put his arm around her and walked her back over to the bed.

"I just can't stand it, Murdock," she said as they sat down, "I mean I get that my price for getting to stay alive these past two years has been walking around with these 'beauty marks' on my chest…and most people are never going to see these things, but _I_ have to see them every single day, I see them and I remember…" she looked down and kicked her foot against the rug and laughed dryly, "I know you've had plenty of jokes at my expense about my looks, and most of them are true, ordinarily I don't let it bother me…but these things…" she started gripping at the top of her shirt again and wrung the fabric in her hand, "Sure don't take much to make you feel ugly, does it?"

For a moment Murdock couldn't even talk, he could hardly even think in how to handle this. He reached his hand over to touch her shoulder but she moved away from him as he started to say, "I-I didn't mean anything by…"

Jean stood up and moved over to the dresser. "I know you didn't, that's not the point. And now…now I've got to explain this to the people at the film studio when they ask why I refuse to wear the wardrobe they assigned to me. You may be used to this kind of thing, you may be able to deal with it, with having to wear these things on your skin, but I'm not, and I can't, and I hate it."

Murdock got up from the bed and came up behind her and said, "You don't get used to it, you just accept it, trust me there _is_ a difference, and _nobody_ ever said you had to like it."

Jean turned her head and looked back to him and said, "I never hear you complaining."

He smiled sheepishly and replied, "I think I got most of that out before you ever came along. Hey, did I show you the latest scar I got?"

"No, and I don't want to see it," Jean said.

"Oh come on, it's really interesting," Murdock started taking off his jacket and tried to wriggle out of his shirt, "See I got it when we had a charge of dynamite ready to go off, and Hannibal stepped on the plunger and when everything went _kaboom_ the debris went flying and I got hit with a…"

"I said I don't want to see it," Jean told him.

"Yeah, I know you did," he responded, "But I figure you're gonna be seeing it sooner or later and I'd rather you see it now when it's still in the realm of its worst, that way when it _does_ fade it won't seem so bad."

"Murdock," Jean said, the desperation clear in her voice, "Do you think these are _ever_ gonna fade?"

He stopped trying to pull his plaid shirt off over his head and asked her cautiously, "Can I see them?"

Jean looked like she was about to be put through round 2 of the Spanish Inquisition, she didn't answer him, only undid the top buttons on her shirt and pulled it open wide for him to see. The lighting in the room was poor but Murdock was still able to see what he was looking for. He reached his hand out to feel the indentions left in the skin but Jean shrank back from his touch before he could.

"Jean, I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said, slightly annoyed.

"I know," she replied.

"Tell me something, when you were recovering for a year back in New York…when these started to scab up did you scratch at them?"

"I couldn't help it, it's what I do," Jean said as she redid her shirt, "Is that why they still look like this?"

"It may have had _something_ to do with it but not much…I wouldn't worry about it. Now, I know it don't feel like it, but in time they _are_ gonna get better, it'll be harder to tell what they are, just gotta be patient with it."

Jean folded her arms flat against her chest and told him, "That's one thing I've never been good at."

"Well I want you to remember something," Murdock told her, "And I don't know how much this is going to help if any, but it don't matter to me how many scars you got or what they look like, I love _you_."

Jean turned away from him, then back and asked him in a frustrated tone, "What did you have to go and say that for?" As though it were the worst possible thing he could've said to her.

"Because it's true," he answered, that same determined look on his face and tone of his voice as any time he tried to convince whoever he was speaking to that he was being serious about something. When Jean opened her mouth to respond, Murdock leaned in and kissed her. It lasted a few seconds, but it was more a mechanical reflex than anything, just to keep her from saying whatever she planned to; when he pulled back he still had that determined disposition, and as he took her hand in his and picked at her nails with his, he told her, "And you may recall, that for as long as I've been in love with you, you _always_ had those scars, it never meant anything to me as far as you were concerned."

From the other side of the bedroom door Hannibal could hear their conversation. Things became quiet suddenly and he took that as a good sign that Murdock had gotten Jean to calm down. He moved away from the door and further into the living room, and stopped in the middle of the room. Reaching down, he grabbed his shirt and lifted it up and looked at the long pale line that ran clear across his stomach. He remembered how long it took for that cut from a Cong soldier's knife to heal, and how much longer it finally took to all but disappear. And, he also remembered well all those awkward stares and the even more awkward explanations of just what that was and where it came from that he'd given to people over the years who had inquired about it. He knew _why_ Jean had reacted the way she did, and he also knew that it would likely be a while before they could expect to get by without a repeat performance.

Hannibal went back to the door and listened again, it was a little too quiet for his own comfort and he decided to make sure they didn't kill each other. He was relieved, if not a little surprised to see Jean and Murdock on his bed asleep in each other's arms, both of them looking relaxed finally. He went over to the bed and drew a blanket at the foot up over them, then backed out of the room again and shut the door behind him. Well, that seemed to have gone well.


	6. Chapter 6: In Sickness and in Health

6. In Sickness and in Health

Hannibal was used to playing nursemaid to one or two or all three of his men at some point or another over the years. It was inevitable, somebody was always coming down with something and giving it to the other two. There never seemed to be a shortage of likely candidates: B.A. no doubt picked up things from the kids at the daycare center where he worked, Murdock had lived in a hospital and it didn't matter how much disinfectant they sprayed, those places were a breeding ground for germs, and then there was always a chance Face picked something up from whatever woman he was currently seeing at that time.

Hannibal always stepped in nurse them back to health whenever they reached a point they were too sick to even get up or leave their bed. He was so used to running around grabbing everything to use from aspirin to wet rags to a mop and bucket or even just a bucket, he could do it in his sleep by now. Though when all three of them got sick at the same time, there were times he wished he still had a pair of roller skates. But always _he_ was the one who stayed well, hence why he was able to do that. It was very rare that Hannibal ever got sick, but rare or not, he currently _was_ and now the tables had turned.

He wasn't sure when he had first noticed he was feeling lousy or how bad it had become, all he knew was that he had been in his bed for he didn't know how long, and now he had Murdock as his assigned nurse. He also didn't know what it was he had, all he knew was that he kept alternating between burning up and freezing, he tried laying still in bed and he could feel his body shaking and trembling, and it seemed no matter if he was hot or cold he always had sweat pouring down into his eyes and burning them. He had to admit, it was nice to wake up and see that somebody was there checking on him, he was thankful for Murdock's presence, but he was also glad that anytime he regained consciousness it was _not_ to find Murdock wearing a little paper nurse's cap.

"How ya feeling, Colonel?" Murdock asked one time when Hannibal woke up and found it was to the Captain replacing the cold cloth on his forehead with one that had been freshly soaked in a bowl of ice water. Through sore and strained eyes Hannibal was able to cock his head to the side and see that it was 2 o' clock in the afternoon...or maybe 10 after 12, he couldn't see it very clearly, and turned his head back to look straight ahead, which now was up at the ceiling.

Hannibal shivered and his teeth chattered together, he talked and it was through them gritted together, "Lousy, but I appreciate everything you're doing, Murdock."

"Aww," Murdock looked embarrassed, "Just doing my job, Colonel." He picked up the thermometer and told him, "Maggie said to see if your fever was going down any."

Hannibal unclenched his teeth but once he closed his mouth he had great difficulty not chewing the thermometer as he continued to shiver and shake. He felt like he'd been left out in the snow. He tried to smile over his chattering teeth; shortly after Christmas and everybody had had their fun in the sun and at the waterpark, he'd decided they ought to try a more traditional route and go somewhere it was cold and full of snow so they could enjoy _that_ side of the weather as well. Since Jean came from New York and the winters there were always plenty cold, he figured she might appreciate a trip somewhere back east to play in the snow. B.A. had gone to Chicago to spend a belated holiday with his mother, so Hannibal had packed up Murdock, Face, Amy and Jean and they'd gone to see a cousin of Jean's in Kansas that she hadn't seen for several years, but who had visited with her parents recently. They'd had plenty of snow there, but not enough that they got trapped there until the spring thaw like Colorado.

They'd lucked out, the cousins had a house on top of a tall hill that was covered in snow; perfect, they'd found out the hard way from Murdock, for going sledding. One by one everybody else had gotten dragged into it, and it had certainly been a new experience for Face, who had spent his whole youth in sunny California. He'd also spent his whole young life in California but he was familiar with the snow. He'd also enjoyed himself, though he would up with a sore tailbone from hitting the curb on the sled, and also wound up with snow down half of his clothes. That's about how he felt now, except he didn't feel like he'd been enjoying himself to reach this point. It was obvious from the look on the Captain's face when he read the thermometer that it wasn't good.

"With your permission, Colonel, I'd like to try another approach and try sweating the fever out of you, the medicine just doesn't seem to be working on its own," Murdock said.

"By all means, g-g-go right ahead," Hannibal said, right now that sounded like a _very_ good idea to him.

Murdock dug some extra bedding out of the closet and piled the covers on top of Hannibal until he was sure he resembled the princess and the pea's bed. Murdock closed the windows and turned up the heat in the apartment slightly. That was the last thing Hannibal remembered before falling asleep.

* * *

He woke up feeling like he was being suffocated. He managed to push himself up into a sitting position and kick the blankets away and he was covered in sweat and suddenly finding it hard to catch his breath.

The lights turned on and Murdock came in, "You alright, Hannibal?"

"I think so…what time is it?" he asked as he realized it was dark out.

"It's almost midnight," Murdock told him, "You were out of it for a long time."

"I feel like it," Hannibal said, "Sleep ten hours…"

Murdock was shaking his head, "No, you weren't asleep the whole time, Hannibal."

He looked at the pilot curiously, "I wasn't?"

Murdock shook his head again, "I asked Maggie to come up here to take a look at you, and she did…" he laughed as he told Hannibal, "When she tried pulling the blankets back to get a look at you, you jerked them back and tried burrowing under them."

"Hmmm…no kidding."

"She gave you some new medicine and said that you have to take it every few hours," Murdock told him as he picked up the bottle on the nightstand, "Let's see…you took two spoons of this stuff _before_ dinner…"

"I didn't have dinner," Hannibal said.

"Sure you did, you just don't remember," Murdock told him.

Hannibal tried to think, but his memory was blank. "What'd we have?"

"Maggie suggested something hot to burn the infection out, so I made some nice hot soup."

Hannibal burped and could taste garlic and onion in the back of his throat and grumbled to himself, "No wonder I don't remember." He pushed back the covers and told Murdock, "I need to get a shower."

"Okay, I'll get a fresh set of sheets on for when you come back out," Murdock said.

"Murdock," Hannibal stopped as he reached the doorway and turned back to the Captain as he thought to ask, "Where are B.A. and Face?"

"Oh don't worry, Hannibal, I didn't tell them that you was feeling under the weather, you know how they'd worry," Murdock said, "Especially the big guy, he always worries too much."

Hannibal nodded, not really making much sense of it but he replied, "Thanks, Murdock."

He went into the bathroom, and while he was waiting for the water to get hot, he tried feeling his forehead to see if the fever had broke, or gone down. But he couldn't tell. After he got done with his shower, he changed into a different set of pajamas and went back to his bedroom and stopped in the doorway when he saw Murdock had fallen asleep on the newly made bed, and tucking him in was Maggie Sullivan. She saw Hannibal staring at her and she raised a finger to her lips. Hannibal nodded, he didn't know how long he'd been in bed for but he knew Murdock had been on his feet the entire time trying to make sure everything was under control; the Captain had definitely earned his rest tonight.

Maggie picked up her doctor's bag and had him follow her out to the living room.

"I thought I'd come back and see how you were doing," she said, "I'm glad that I did."

He smiled at her and replied, "I'm glad you did too."

"I suppose while I'm here I should take your temperature," Maggie said.

"Well for you I have no problem going 'ahhh'," Hannibal opened his mouth.

Maggie giggled, "Cute, but I have a different type of thermometer to use."

"Well in that case I don't think I need my temperature checked," Hannibal replied.

Maggie smirked at him as she took a thermometer out of her bag and told him, "Come on, lift your arm."

"I hope you warmed that thing first," he said.

"Quit complaining," Maggie said as she stuck it in place, "I figure this should be the safer bet since Murdock said you about ate the last one."

"Ha ha." As he waited for the reading to be done, he asked her, "So what is this, some kind of bug going around or something?"

"Or something," Maggie said by way of answer, "Some people have something similar to what you've had, others aren't having anything."

"Lucky them," Hannibal commented.

"Do you know how much your temperature's been today?" Maggie asked.

"Uh…" Hannibal decided to take a guess, "Hundred and…three?"

"Four."

"Ouch."

"Uncomfortable to be sure, but still not high enough to _really_ worry about," Maggie said.

"That so?" Hannibal asked.

"Well…not enough to cause brain damage anyway."

"Oh really? Is that something you picked up in med school?" Hannibal asked.

"No, babysitting," Maggie answered, "Took my neighbor's 7-month-old to the doctor when he had a 106 fever, turned out he was teething. The doctor told me then that brain damage doesn't set in until at least 112."

"Well that's good to know," Hannibal cynically remarked.

Maggie smirked and commented, "Interesting how a little baby can cope so well with a high fever but a grown man gets the same thing and you become completely helpless."

"Ha ha, well my teeth aren't coming in, they're about ten years from going out," Hannibal replied.

Maggie removed the thermometer from his armpit and told him, "Looks like your fever broke…99 degrees."

"Which means what…100 when it's converted over?" Hannibal asked.

"Still a vast improvement," Maggie told him, "The worst should be over by now."

"That's good, this isn't a lifestyle that allows too many sick days," Hannibal said.

Maggie looked at the clock and said, "Well, since you seem to have backed up from death's door, I think I'll be leaving for the night."

"Oh alright," Hannibal said with a slight pout.

Once Maggie had left, Hannibal went back to the bedroom and saw Murdock was still asleep. He decided not to wake the pilot, he needed his sleep after today, so he went back to the living room and made up the couch to sleep on. On the coffee table was a bottle of whiskey that had been partially emptied…perhaps some of Murdock's country roots in the 'kill or cure' school of thought. Maybe he'd had a few drinks himself to keep going through the day. Hannibal couldn't remember drinking any but that didn't mean anything, he apparently couldn't remember most of what had happened that day. He set the bottle aside and made his bed on the couch; despite having slept for most of the day he found it very easy to succumb to unconsciousness once again and stay that way for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Hannibal, hey Hannibal!"

Hannibal's eyes flew open at the mention of his name and he saw the living room was bright, a second later it dawned on him that was because it was now morning, and the person screaming for him on the other side of the door was Face. He sat up just as the door opened up.

"Hannibal, I've been calling you all morning, why didn't you answer?" Face asked as he and B.A. came charging into the apartment, "I thought Decker nabbed you for sure."

Hannibal weakly smiled as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "He should be so lucky." What he wouldn't give to spread this crud to Decker right about now.

"Hey Hannibal, what's the matter with you, you don't usually sleep in this late," Face said.

"Answer's right there," B.A. pointed.

Hannibal followed the direction of the black man's finger and saw it was aimed at the bottle of whiskey on the table.

"Oh boy, Hannibal, I really thought you were old enough to know better," Face griped.

It took Hannibal a few seconds to figure out what the Lieutenant was getting at, and then it hit him; Face thought he'd gotten drunk last night, and hung over, and that's why he hadn't answered the phone.

"Hey wait a minute, _you_ don't usually keep whiskey on hand, Murdock does," Face said, "Is he here too?"

"Sure is," B.A. said as he came back from the bedroom, "Crazy fool's passed out in Hannibal's bed."

Face looked at B.A. oddly, and then turned back to Hannibal and demanded to know, "What the _hell_ went on here last night?"

Hannibal smiled to himself. They would never know.


	7. Chapter 7: Waiting

7. Waiting

Waiting was always the hardest part. It was something that never got easier no matter how much time had passed or how many times this happened, and over the years it had happened quite a bit.

Hannibal stood by his bed and looked at the battered young man who was unconscious in it. It hadn't even been by his own choice, they'd drugged Face to knock him out when he wouldn't hold still long enough for the doctor to do his stitches. They'd almost had to knock him out initially so they could set his dislocated shoulder, but he'd refused it then, the problem was the pain seemed to make him delirious and then they didn't have any choice, he was unresponsive to them and responsive only to the agony his body was in.

It hadn't seemed that this job would be too much trouble. Maybe they should've taken that as a hint, it seemed too good to be true. But regardless of what anybody thought then, or who was responsible for what ultimately happened, they had come through once again, the bad guys got the stuffing knocked out of them and were left tied up, bound and gagged and left waiting for the police to come and collect them. But they'd all come out of it with their share of injuries, but Face had gotten the worst, and it definitely showed now.

It was hard to find more than four square inches on Face's body that wasn't some varying shade of blue, black, purple or yellow. The crooks they'd gone after had had a couple days to work him over after he'd lost contact with the rest of the Team. They'd found his radio, and the tracking device transmitter that they'd hidden in his cufflinks, both smashed to bits at the last place they'd been able to pick up his reading. Picking up the trail hadn't been hard, but apparently Hannibal had underestimated who and what they were dealing with because by the time they reached the villains' hideout, they were already having to dodge machine gunfire and Molotov cocktails being chucked out the top windows of the house at them. They'd had to double back and get out of sight and work on a new plan to gain them access to the house and to find Face.

"I'll have to give them credit on one thing," Hannibal had told the others, "They've got more imagination than I thought."

Murdock rubbed his hands together sinisterly and said in an accent that seemed like a strangled combination of New York and New Jersey, "Comic book plots for the comic book minds."

"Man's talking even less sense than usual, Hannibal," B.A. told him.

"Yeah…but he may be right," Hannibal replied.

Hannibal finally figured out how they were going to get to the house. He had B.A. use his technological genius to rig up a bullhorn that when Hannibal spoke into it, it would sound like it was coming from the van in front of the house, but Hannibal would be working his way around to the back. They moved at night when the fighting had died down, Murdock and B.A. stayed by the van and it looked like Murdock was the one on the bullhorn incase they looked out. Hannibal had used it to issue a warning to all members inside, that they had come for their Lieutenant and were going to take him out in whatever condition he was in, but that the rest of the jerks in the house would be leaving feet first. And it worked, they had all been watching the two men out front that they didn't notice Hannibal sneaking in through a window in the back, he knocked out the first guy he reached, but quietly, and was able to repeat that action a couple more times until he was able to find the room Face was being kept in. Then he gave the signal for B.A. and Murdock to move in.

After that it had just been one big menagerie of gunfire, fists, KO's, bodies being hurled through the air and a mad dash to get Face back to the van and out of the line of fire. All of that had been the easy part, now they had to wait for him to wake up.

The final count had been 15 stitches, four bruised ribs, two busted teeth, one split lip, two raccoon eyes, and about 50 bruises all up and down his body, which had been stripped down to his boxers before being laid in Hannibal's bed to rest and recover.

It had been decided that somebody would stay with him at all times incase he woke up early, so far Hannibal had claimed the first three shifts for himself, he spent the entire time either standing by the bed or sitting in a chair next to it, watching Face as he slept. Were it not for the slow movements of his chest and stomach as he inhaled and exhaled, he would look dead, and this scared the hell out of Hannibal, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Ooh he knew that there was going to be hell to pay when Face woke up and saw what he looked like. He knew what they all knew, that Templeton Peck prided himself very much on his appearance and overall good looks; B.A.'s comments from years past about 'broken face' seemed to have come true now. Murdock had had the idea that they cover all the mirrors and when Face asked, tell him that one of Billy's cousins had died and they were mourning. It hadn't sounded like a half bad idea, they knew it was going to take a while for his bruises to fade away.

Hannibal realized how quiet it was out in the living room and he decided to chance leaving Face for a moment, to make sure B.A. didn't kill Murdock and stuff him under the couch or something like that.

He was surprised. Murdock and B.A. were seated on the couch playing a game of checkers on the coffee table. Hannibal remembered stressing how important it was that they be quiet so Face could rest, apparently this was about the only quiet thing the two men could do with each other. Ooh if ever there was a time Hannibal wished he had a camera.

Murdock looked up and saw Hannibal standing in the doorway and he asked quietly, "Is Faceman awake yet?"

Hannibal shook his head and moved over towards them, "We gave him a pretty strong dose, I think he'll be out of it for a while."

"And in the meantime there ain't nothing to do but wait for him to come out of it, right?" B.A. asked.

"Pretty much."

Hannibal answered the knocking at the door and saw it was Jean.

"I got Murdock's message that you guys were back, how's Face doing?" she asked.

"Been better," he answered as he closed the door behind her.

Murdock led Jean into the bedroom so she could see for herself.

"So much for those fine hotel rooms for a while," Jean commented as she folded her arms against her chest.

"Shh," Murdock pinched her, "Don't let him hear that."

"Why not?" Jean asked, "Isn't that what you want, for him to wake up?" She reached over and shook his foot and said in a raised voice, "Hey Face, get up! Hey Face, you look like a blackberry patch, you know that?"

"Come on, Jean, don't annoy an injured man," Murdock said as he pulled her away from the bed.

"Well you guys annoy me _all_ the time," Jean replied, "_Even_ when I've been beaten within an inch of my life."

"Get her out of here," Hannibal told the Captain as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

"Now you explain something to me if you can," Jean said to Murdock later that day, "You guys gave Face half a dose of what you ordinarily give B.A. to knock him out for a flight…but when you drug him you're doing well to keep him out for little over an hour…so how come to give half a dose to a man half his size, Face is still out cold 6 hours later?"

"What can I say? Either it's very strong or B.A. is just very stubborn, or both."

"Or Face is very weak," Jean replied.

Murdock shook his head, "Not Face, he's one of the strongest guys I know."

"Face?" Jean scoffed.

"Well not as _you_ ordinarily know him," Murdock said, "Not the way you're thinking."

"Yeah well whatever he is, he ought to be waking up by now," Jean told him, "I'm going to try something."

Murdock didn't like the sound of that and he followed her into the kitchen and asked her, "What're you going to do?"

"Something that got Fatty Arbuckle arrested 64 years ago," Jean answered as she dug a bowl out of the cupboard and went over to the fridge, opened the freezer door and started taking ice cubes out of the icemaker box.

Murdock didn't get it, he followed her into the bedroom and watched as she pulled the covers back and tossed the ice onto Face's lower body and piled it on his black and blue thighs. The lieutenant let out a sharp hiss through a closed mouth as his body responded to the sudden cold but otherwise he didn't stir.

"Oh boy," Jean told Murdock, "This guy's plenty sick."

At that moment, Hannibal reentered the apartment with dinner for everyone and he came into the bedroom demanding to know, "_What_ are you doing?"

"Trying to wake up your Lieutenant," Jean answered.

"Well get out of here and quit bugging him," Hannibal told her. He tried to come across hard as nails and in his usual commanding officer tone but it was obvious he couldn't help being slightly amused by their antic attempts at rousing the Lieutenant. "Get out of here," he said, trying hard now not to laugh as they walked past him. "I told you to keep an eye on him, _not_ to play with him."

"Well what's the point in having him shut up for once and unable to whine about everything if we can't have some fun at his expense?" Jean asked.

Hannibal shut the door behind them, and then laughed to himself as he scooped up the ice and put it back in the bowl. He placed the bowl on the dresser and asked Face, even though he knew there would be no answer from the Lieutenant, "Have they been giving you trouble the whole time I was gone?"

Aside from his breathing, Face wasn't moving at all.

"Hannibal?"

"Come on in," he said, never turning around to see them open the door and enter the room.

Jean and Murdock came in and stayed by the door incase he chased them out.

"Is Face going to be alright, Hannibal?" Jean asked.

Hannibal checked the Lieutenant's pulse and heartbeat, and slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, but when he finally wakes up he's going to feel like hell."

"Sorry," she said.

He turned to her and said, "Go get some of the dish towels from the kitchen, we'll see if we can't get some of the swelling from these bruises to go down before he wakes up."

They wrapped the ice in the towels and laid them on the parts of him that looked worst at the present moment.

"Why did they do it?" Jean asked Hannibal, "Were they trying to kill him?"

"No," Hannibal said as he tenderly stroked one hand across a purple cheek, "They knew."

"That he uses his charming good looks to get whatever you need?" she asked.

"To get himself in or out of any situation he needs," Hannibal told her, and smiled sadly, "It'll be a while before that happens again."

"Oh I wouldn't be sure of that," Jean said, "As long as there's a single girl within a hundred miles of him, he'll be able to get whatever he needs, even with his face looking like a grape right now. Women can be such _suckers_ when a man tries for sympathy."

"Or pity," Murdock added.

"And you don't get much more pitiful than that," Jean said.

* * *

Hannibal had stayed by the bed while the others ate dinner, he didn't remember falling asleep but he woke up with a stiff neck and saw that Face hadn't woken up yet still. He looked to the clock and saw that it was now 8:30 at night.

"Come on, kid, wake up," Hannibal said as he got up from the chair and stretched.

Then he realized something. Face had spent the whole day lying stiff and straight in the bed, now he had one arm drawn back at the elbow, resting on the pillow up by his head, his hand curled into a weak fist. At some point since Hannibal had fallen asleep, Face had moved. Hannibal hovered over Face to see if he was finally starting to come out of it; and he felt a big grin on his face when he saw the Lieutenant's face twisting and scrunching up as he started to feel the pain he had been oblivious to for several hours.

"H—Hannibal?" he weakly asked as he opened his eyes, "What's going on? What happened?"

"It's a long story, kid, I know you're in pain right now, those guys really did a number on you…but aside from that how do you feel?"

Face exhaled noisily as he tried sitting up. Hannibal wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him forward as he propped the pillows up behind him and then eased Face back against them again.

"I…I don't know," Face said, "What time is it? What day is this?"

"It's about 16 hours since we found you at the hideout," Hannibal told him, "You've already been to a doctor and had the worst seen to…now it's just going to be a waiting game for the bumps and bruises to subside."

Face's chest rose and fell quickly now as his breathing became shallower and more rapid. Hannibal saw one black eye squeeze shut and when it opened again there were tears escaping it and rolling down the bruised cheek. But Face managed a pained smile as he said, "I knew that you guys would find me…I just didn't know _how_ you were going to do it."

Hannibal carefully put his arms around the shaky younger man, trying not to hurt him further, and he softly patted Face on the back and told him, "It's over now…and in a few days we're going to get you back to the dentist to replace the caps they knocked out of you."

"Huh?" Face brought the tip of his tongue up and felt along the bottom of his upper teeth and found two that came up short and groaned with a grimace on his face, "Oh no…not again."

The door opened and Murdock was hanging onto the knob from the other side and when he saw Face was awake, he turned and signaled for Jean to come in.

"Hey B.A.!" she called back to the living room, "Get up, he's awake!"

Murdock grabbed her and pulled her into the room and told her, "Don't do that, the mudsucker's been up all night, you try waking him up now and we're bound to find your feet sticking out of his mouth."

They both ran over to the bed and practically tackled Face. He felt them both grabbing him trying to hug him but every breath he took came out in a groan or hiss, "Oof, easy, easy, not healed, not healed!"

"You alright, Face?" Murdock asked, "How're ya feeling?"

"Sore…" Face groaned as he pulled himself out of their grasp, "Hungry…my mouth's cotton."

"I'll get you something to drink, I'll be right back," Murdock said as he spun around and all but flew out the door.

Face looked back to Hannibal and asked him, "You really waited on me this whole time?"

"Of course I did," he answered.

"Well Face," Jean said as she sat down at the foot of the bed, "Are you ready for the moment of truth?"

He saw that she had a small mirror in her hand and was shielding the reflective glass from him at the moment.

"Might as well get it over with I suppose," he said.

Jean brought the mirror up and let him see himself.

"Aww geez, how am I _ever_ going to go outside again looking like this?" he asked.

"Already thought of that," Jean said as she took a jar of skin tone foundation out of her pocket, "Now I'm _your_ makeup man."

Face rolled his eyes and murmured, "I guess it _is_ true what they say about karma."


	8. Chapter 8: Lunch Break

8. Lunch Break

"He's late," Jean said as she checked her watch.

"Hannibal's always late, or always early," Murdock said, "He never shows up on time, likes to throw people off that way."

"Well when he's getting lunch, he ought to be early," Jean said, "Don't you guys have to leave soon?"

"Well it's physically impossible to miss an airplane that won't take off until we get there," Murdock reminded her.

"Shh," Face warned him as he saw B.A. come in the doorway.

"Hannibal ain't back yet," he said.

"We know," they replied.

"I wonder what he's picking up for lunch?" Murdock asked.

"Anything's fine with me," Jean said as she went over to the couch and collapsed on it, "Just so long as it ain't pizza."

"Why not pizza?" Face asked.

"Because I'm sick of it," Jean said, "We've been eating it all week for a diner scene while these two nitwits keep _blowing_ their lines and we have to reshoot, reshoot, reshoot…I've eaten so much pizza in the last filming week I'm not only sick of it, I've put on about 10 pounds from it." She moved a hand to her stomach and complained, "Now people _are_ gonna think I'm pregnant."

"Well I like it," Murdock said as he sat down beside her and rubbed her stomach, "Now you've got a little cushioning on you."

Jean slapped his hand away and told him, "_Stop that_, I'm not a lamp."

"Yeah, it _would_ be too much to ask you having an 'off' switch on you somewhere," Face commented cynically.

Hannibal came into the apartment just in time to avoid WWIII breaking out between everybody.

"Oh good, we can eat now," Murdock said, "What'd you get, Colonel?"

Hannibal set two large paper bags on the table and took out some wrapped burgers and fries and told Murdock to get everybody a drink poured, he emphasized using up the milk in the fridge before it went bad while they were gone.

"Right-o, Colonel," Murdock saluted.

"I'm with him," Jean said as she grabbed one of the burgers, "Oh boy, the eats."

Hannibal snatched the burger out of her hand and told her, "Give me that, Jean, check the food before you start biting into it, this is B.A.'s burger."

"Hey wait a minute, Hannibal," B.A. inched in towards the Colonel and said suspiciously, "Every time you start saying whose food is whose, I always get knocked out and put on a plane."

"B.A., I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Hannibal said innocently, "You _know_ you take your cheeseburger with mustard and onions, I happen to know that Jean doesn't, she doesn't like _anything_."

"That's not me," she said, "That's Murdock's burger, I take mine with ketchup and lots of pickles."

"Murdock," Face turned questioningly towards the Captain, "Since when do you eat your burgers plain?"

"Oh it's an experiment, the last time we got these burgers I got this really bad heartburn and I thought…"

"Shut up you crazy fool," B.A. told Murdock, "Hannibal, I'm onto your tricks, you ain't fooling me this time."

"Really, B.A., it hurts me that you have so little trust in me," Hannibal said mockingly. Before B.A. could respond, Hannibal added, "Now look, first thing's first, we'll take a look at the burgers and see which belongs to whom…now, here's the first one, nothing on it, just a plain, dry, cheeseburger, that's Murdock's."

"Thanks, Colonel," Murdock said as he took it from him.

"Alright," Hannibal opened the bun on the next burger and said, "This one is ketchup, mustard and relish."

"That's mine," Face said.

Hannibal tossed it to him, and checked the next, "Ketchup and…a _lot_ of pickles, knock yourself out, Jean."

"That leaves two," Jean said.

"That's right," Hannibal handed one to B.A. and said, "Ketchup, mustard, relish and onions, and here's mine, mustard, mayonnaise, and onions."

B.A. looked at his burger and then looked at Hannibal and shook his head, "I don't trust you, Hannibal, I know better than that, you put the knockout stuff in _this_ burger, so I'm taking another," and he took Murdock's and switched it with his own. Murdock looked at the burger he now had and made a sad puppy face and started whining.

"Cut that out, Murdock!" B.A. told him.

"Okay," Murdock turned it off like a water tap.

"Well now that that's settled I guess we can sit down and eat," Hannibal said.

Murdock was still making faces at his burger and grumbling, so Jean switched hers with him, and now she was the one making disgusted faces at her lunch.

"So," she said as she put hers on her plate and forgot about it, "Who's this new client of yours?"

"Oh, it's a beaut," Face said dryly, "Got this rich couple whose daughter has been kidnapped and they believe it's so she can be forced into marrying somebody she had an order of protection taken out against a few months back."

"How long you plan on being gone for it?" Jean asked Hannibal.

"I figure a couple of days," Hannibal said, "Now I know we went over this before, but you remember what I told you, right?"

Jean nodded. Since they were going to be gone for a few days, Hannibal had suggested that Jean stay at his apartment until they got back. That way she could keep an eye out for Decker if he came sniffing around, and he knew that she'd be somewhere nobody would ever think to look for her incase there was trouble while they were gone.

"Hey," B.A. said as he noticed something, "Why ain't you eating?"

The others looked to Jean and saw that she hadn't touched the burger yet.

"I don't like onions," she replied.

"Oh for crying out loud, give it to me, I'll take them out," Hannibal said, "I never saw anybody so picky about their food."

When he handed the burger back to her, Jean looked at it skeptically, but with all eyes on her, she bit into it and managed to take a few bites out of it, and then a minute later, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell off the chair and passed out on the floor.

"Aha!" B.A. looked to Hannibal, "I _knew_ you was trying to trick me."

Hannibal just gave a small smile and replied, "Well you were right, there, does that make you feel better?"

Murdock pushed his chair back and got on the floor to see if Jean was alright. B.A. felt sorry for her but he couldn't help laughing as he told Hannibal, "Well, I guess we ain't flying."

"Yeah," Face said suspiciously, "That would be right, except we didn't put any knockout stuff in the burgers…we put it in the milk."

"What!?" B.A. glared at them, "Hannibal, I'm gonna…." He didn't get to explain what he was going to do because at that moment his eyes closed and he fell off the side of the chair and hit the floor.

Hannibal chuckled and pushed his chair back, "Alright Jean, you can get up now."

But Jean remained on the floor unmoving.

"Come on, Jean, fun's fun but we gotta get moving," Face said.

But still there was no response from her. Hannibal knelt down beside Murdock and turned her over to see if she was breathing. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, "Fooled ya, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah, real funny," Face dryly remarked, "What're you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

"That would make me a damn good actor if I could, wouldn't it?" she asked as she got up.

"Alright, somebody get the door," Hannibal said as he grabbed B.A. and prepared to carry the Sergeant down the stairs.

"You'll never make it," Jean said, "You're gonna get a hernia before you ever get down to the first floor."

"We'll see about that," Hannibal grunted as he got B.A. over his shoulder and started for the door, "Get everything ready, I'll be back in a minute."

"You think he'll make it?" Jean asked Face and Murdock once Hannibal had left.

"If he doesn't we won't have far to go to find out," Murdock said, "One 230 pound mudsucker weighted down with 40 pounds of gold _squishing_ the Colonel into a greasy spot in the pavement."

Jean laughed as she went over to the TV and picked up a couple of large manila envelopes that looked stuffed.

"What's that?" Face asked.

"Ah, well while you guys are gone and I'm going to be here apartment-sitting for Hannibal, I thought I'd get a little additional work done. Work's kind of slow at the studio right now, so I answered an ad in the newspaper to help canvass for the city directories. Gotta call up everybody on these lists and make sure their names are spelled right, their addresses are right, and take orders for anybody who wants to buy a directory when they come out. Not much better than a door to door encyclopedia salesman but it's money at least."

"How much does it pay?" Face asked.

"Not enough but it's only temp work, and it _will_ be a little better than what my current paycheck reads," Jean said as she went back to the table and took another bite out of her burger, "Besides it'll give me _something_ to do while I sit up here playing Mother Bates for the weekend."

"Well I suppose that's the spirit," Face commented to Murdock.

They heard Hannibal's footsteps running up the stairs and he appeared in the doorway and told them, "I got B.A. in the van but we gotta move fast, I just picked up on the radio that Decker and the MPs are on their way here."

"Oh great," Face said, "What do you think the odds are we can get out of here in time?"

"They're probably good that we'll be _just_ in time to be _too_ late," Hannibal said.

Jean remained seated at the table taking this in, and she got an idea. B.A. was the only one who drank his milk during lunch, oddly enough his had been the only spiked glass, leaving four tall glasses that were still untouched. She picked up one and drank it down as fast as she could, then picked up another and did it again. Face turned around and saw this, as did the others, and he went over to the table and told her, "Don't do that, Jean, you're going to make yourself sick!"

"That's the idea," she said as she finished the third glass and stood up, "See if you can get down to the van before they get here, I'm going to cause a little distraction when they do," and she waddled over to the door.

Hannibal was confused. "What're you going to do?"

Jean didn't turn around to look at them as she answered matter-of-factly, "I'm going to go throw up on Decker."

Face managed a short laugh, "You got a lot of guts, Jean."

"Yep, but not for long," she replied as she went out the door.


	9. Chapter 9: Red Ball 1, Bag is Patched

9. Red Ball 1, Bag is Patched

Jean was asleep on Hannibal's couch when the phone rang. As per her agreement with Hannibal, while they were off playing the Lone Ranger Quartet, she was staying at his apartment keeping an eye on the place and also squeezing in some extra work for a second paycheck. Anybody who thought working over the phone wasn't a strenuous job ought to try it sometime, she'd thought. Definitely _not_ what she wanted to do with her life but it gave her a job to do while work at the film studio was slow. She'd fallen asleep shortly after 8:30 the third night she was staying there, and now that she woke up when the phone started ringing, she saw it was only going on 8:50. Short night and a long night all at the same time; she rubbed her eye as she got up, this work was going to run Hannibal's phone bill up but she was sure if Decker had the phone line tapped, and he probably did, he was probably going to die of boredom listening in to the calls she'd been making all day.

"Hello?" she answered the phone, expecting a call back from someone she'd left a message for earlier.

It was Hannibal, and he sounded worried.

"Jean, we're on our way back, I need you to have the door unlocked and opened before we get up there, understand?"

Of course she really _didn't_ understand, what was going on, but she knew that Hannibal would fill her in when he got there, otherwise he would've told her up front.

"Alright," she said, and hung up right after she heard a sharp _click_ on the other end.

She put her paperwork away, went to the front door and undid the locks and opened it a crack. Down below she could hear people coming in the front door and the voices were all muffled. As they started up the stairs Jean thought she could hear an animal whining and she wondered what was going on. Then as they came up to the third floor, she realized that the noise was Murdock crying, and she saw why. B.A. and Hannibal were carrying Amy up the stairs and she wasn't moving, she didn't even appear to be conscious.

"What happened?" she asked as she went out in the hall to clear the way as the Colonel and Sergeant stepped in first.

Face explained since Murdock seemed too emotional to talk right now, "Amy came with us to help on the mission, after we found the daughter and started to get away, we were found out and the goon who had her snatched up had his guys open fire on us. Amy got hit and went down, we had to rush her to a hospital."

"How bad is it?" Jean asked.

Murdock sniffed and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and said, "She got hit in the shoulder, lost a lot of blood, passed out on the way there…" he blew his nose and it sounded like a foghorn.

Jean turned and glanced into the apartment and then turned back to them and said, "But you brought her back here."

"Yeah well, the doctors said she was very lucky and that it could've been a lot worse," Face explained, "They really hadn't cleared her for release but Murdock got one of his gut feelings, we went back and found two of the goons had sneaked into the hospital, gotten her room number and were going upstairs to kill her. That's where we came in."

"But you think she's going to be alright?" Jean asked.

"Hannibal says she will," Face said.

"But you don't think so?"

"Well…" Face cringed as Murdock came over to him and buried his face in the Lieutenant's shoulder and said, "I haven't had a lot of chances to see for myself."

Jean lowered her voice and asked Face, "How long's he been like this?"

"Since we got her in the van to take her to the hospital," Face answered.

Jean put her hands on Murdock and tried pulling him off of Face.

"Come on, Murdock," she said as she finally managed to yank them apart.

* * *

"How long she been asleep, Hannibal?" B.A. asked once they got Amy settled in his bed.

"Slept the whole way home, I know that," Hannibal replied, "I don't know what drugs they gave her in the hospital but it must've been something good."

"I don't like it," B.A. said.

"I know you don't, you've been saying it since before we got shot at," Hannibal reminded him.

Hannibal pressed a thumb against one of Amy's closed eyelids and pushed it up to see her eye. When he let go of it, it fell back down, and a few seconds later both eyes started to open, slightly.

"Hey, I think she's waking up," Hannibal said.

B.A. snorted and said, "Stick a finger in my eye I'll wake up too, and knock you out."

Amy reached up with her good arm and swatted Hannibal's hand away and said in a weak voice, "Don't you know it's a bad omen to annoy dying people?"

"Sorry to break it to you kid, but you'll live," Hannibal said with a small smile.

Amy managed a pained smile and closed her eyes again.

"Did they get it out?" she asked.

"You got lucky, the bullet took a little chunk out of your shoulder but it never actually went in, more like a deep graze. No _major_ damage."

"Define _major_," Amy said in a tired voice.

"Hannibal, can we come in?" Jean asked.

"Yeah, come on," Hannibal said.

The door opened and the three of them came in together.

"She alright?" Jean asked.

"She will be," Hannibal answered.

Murdock walked over to the bed, his steps and whole mannerisms and body language like the over exaggerated theatrics of a silent film sleepwalker, though it was obvious he wasn't carrying himself well, and may in fact collapse at any time. Hannibal and B.A. got on either side of him and grabbed him to keep him on his feet.

"Amy?" he asked desperately.

But Amy was already falling back asleep with the help of the drugs she'd gotten at the hospital. Jean came up behind Murdock and put her hands on him and told him, "Come on, Murdock, we'll go pick up some dinner for everyone."

"He's in no condition to drive," Face told her.

"_I'll_ drive, my car's downstairs," Jean said, giving him a look that would have him already in the ground were it possible.

Face stood by the door and wrung his hands until the front door closed, then he went over to Hannibal and B.A. and asked him, "Is Murdock going to be alright, Hannibal? I don't think I've ever seen him like this before."

"Me either," B.A. added, "Crazy fool's making me worry more than usual with his jibber-jabber."

"Once Amy comes around he'll feel better," Hannibal said, sounding like he was trying to sound more self assured than he actually was.

* * *

"We're back," Jean said as she and Murdock came in the door carrying a couple of pizza boxes, "Got pizza for dinner."

"I thought you were sick of pizza," Face said.

"Yeah well," Jean shoved the boxes into his hands, "Surprisingly enough, throwing up on Decker did wonders for my appetite."

"Oh," Hannibal hit himself on the side of his head, "I forgot to ask how things have been going while we were gone."

"Oh fine, just perfectly boring," Jean said, "Nobody's been here since Decker tried cutting you off on the way to the airport."

"Amy alright?" Murdock asked.

"Yeah, we're going to see if she wants any dinner," Hannibal said as he took the pizzas from Face and set them on the table.

"C-Can I take it in to her?" Murdock asked.

"Sure," Hannibal said, a bit puzzled.

Jean waited until Murdock had gone into the bedroom to ask Hannibal, "Was Murdock responsible somehow for what happened to Amy?"

Hannibal shook his head, "No…it was nobody's fault, it just happened."

Jean scratched her head.

"Were you able to get him calmed down while you were out?" Face asked.

"Well he stopped crying, you'll notice that," Jean pointed out. She thought for a minute and said, "I think I just lost my appetite."

* * *

Amy heard somebody knocking at the door and craned her neck around to see who it was. Jean opened the door and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said quietly, gesturing to Murdock who had fallen asleep with his head and folded arms at the foot of the bed.

Jean tiptoed in and went over to Murdock and put her hands on his shoulders and shook him gently to wake him up.

"Hm-huh-wh-what?" he asked as he came around.

"Murdock," Jean said, "Billy is hiding under the couch and won't stop growling at Face, will you go do something with him, please?"

"Oh…sure, I'll go get him," Murdock got up and left the bedroom, Jean went over and closed the door behind him and went back to the bed.

"How're you feeling?" she asked Amy.

Amy groaned as she moved and said, "This is definitely a new experience…until I met these guys I'd never been shot before."

"Hey, join the club," Jean told her.

Amy pulled her head up to see her shoulder and she grimaced and said dismissively, "I guess off-the-shoulder blouses are out for right now."

"Why?" Jean asked, "You can still pull it off, you just gotta have a story to go with the hole in your arm now…something like you were on the trail of a hot leading story concerning international relations and some sniper opened fire on a government official and you wound up smack in the line of fire."

Amy laughed and asked her, "Is that what you tell people?"

"I don't tell them anything," she replied, "And believe me I pay a good price for that. I'd have it much easier if I just had a small hole blown in my shoulder, you can find _some_ way to explain that." She sat down on the edge of the bed and added, "I'll tell you, Amy, I don't know what there is between you and Murdock but he's got it bad for you."

Amy tried sitting up but found her body wasn't ready to cooperate quite just yet. "What're you talking about?"

"We were married, and he sure as hell never bawled his eyes out over me when I got hurt," Jean told her, "You're something special to him, that much is obvious. He's been beating himself up ever since you got shot, and I'm just trying to figure out why."

"I see," Amy said, though she really didn't and felt her head swimming as she tried to recall what had happened before the hospital, which was foggy enough in her mind. Still, she felt the need to make something clear and she told Jean, "There is nothing between me and Murdock."

"Sure there is," Jean said.

"I don't love him."

"Sure you do, and he loves you," Jean replied, "Maybe not the way you're thinking of, but I can tell you do, it's unavoidable, he grows on you the little wart…Murdock told me he fell in love with you the first time he laid eyes on you."

"Wha—you mean when I went to interview him back at the V.A.?"

"Yep," Jean answered, "He says that he knew then."

Amy groaned softly and told Jean, "I had no idea."

"He didn't tell you, only natural," Jean said, "To be fair, he said he feels the way about most pretty women he sees for the first time."

Amy tried to laugh but it hurt too much. "Maybe I should talk to him and find out what's up." She turned to the door and called, "Murdock," but her voice wasn't back to full force yet.

"I'll get him," Jean got up from the bed, opened the door and bellowed, "MURDOCK!"

"I got him!" Murdock said as he came in with his arms full of nothing, "Billy, now you behave yourself."

"Murdock, come in here, we want to talk to you," Jean said.

Murdock put Billy down and walked into the room cautiously, "You feeling alright, Amy?"

"I'm doing better, Murdock, thanks," she replied.

"Murdock, I got a question for you," Jean said, "Did you have something to do with Amy getting hurt on the mission?"

Murdock looked like he'd been punched in the gut, "Of course not."

"I didn't think so, why then have you been acting all hysterical over her when she wasn't even that seriously wounded?" Jean asked.

Murdock looked from her to Amy and back again and said, "Well we didn't know how bad it was when she got hit, there was a lot of blood and she wasn't moving."

"But afterwards, when you _knew_ it wasn't as bad," Jean said, "Why then? I can understand when you found out those men spotted her at the hospital, but she was well out of danger after that when you started back this way."

Murdock opened and closed his mouth several times but no sound came out. Jean looked to Amy and said, "I think for once, Murdock's uncomfortable with speaking honestly with an audience…I'll go out and see what the others are up to."

Amy waited until the door closed and she gestured for Murdock to come sit by her on the bed.

"Something wrong, Murdock?"

Murdock slowly nodded.

"What?" Amy asked.

Murdock lay down beside her and half buried his face in the pillow as he told her, "I got scared, Amy."

She laughed weakly and replied, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Yeah, I guess you do," Murdock said as he pulled himself up to a sitting position and brought his knees up to his chest, "Amy, of all the times you've helped us on a mission ain't anything like this ever happened, I never figured it would, and then when you passed out, I thought…"

Amy reached over with her good arm and pulled him towards her and smiled reassuringly, "But I'm alright, Murdock, at least I will be."

Murdock leaned against her and pressed his face against her good shoulder and he groaned, "I can't stop you from coming with us again, I don't think even Hannibal could do that…I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Well that makes two of us," Amy told him, "Murdock, you think I haven't risked my life a hundred times already for my work? This could've happened at any one of a dozen places I tried getting a big story."

Murdock didn't answer, his eyes seemed to be staring straight ahead, but at what, she couldn't tell. She looked at him, and he seemed to snap out of it and he turned to her and told her matter-of-factly, "I love you, Amy."

She was slightly surprised but nodded once and responded, "I love you too, Murdock."

* * *

"Amy," Jean said quietly as she opened the door, "Everything okay?"

She saw that Murdock was asleep and halfway off the bed, Amy was trying to pull him over towards the middle of the bed but not having much luck. Jean came over and helped roll the Captain back onto the mattress.

"Thanks," Amy said.

"Don't think you've been missing anything being cooped up here all night," Jean told her, "The others may not be as expressive as Murdock it but it sounds like they were all worried you wouldn't pull through."

"Really?" Amy asked, "…I do seem to recall B.A. saying they had to get me to the hospital, Hannibal thought they could chance putting another 50 miles between us and the gunmen, but B.A. wouldn't budge on it."

"That's B.A. for you," Jean said, "Though…it sounds like Hannibal's been beating himself up for this whole mess as well."

"Hannibal?" Amy asked in disbelief.

"Surely you know," Jean said, and nodded towards the door, "He considers these three chuckleheads his boys…he thinks of you as his daughter."

Amy looked surprised by this revelation. Then she thought of something and said, "Then he must think the same of you."

"I think with a little luck," Jean crossed four of the fingers on her left hand, "I'll get there, but the fact remains you came first, that means something, I can tell."

There was a knock at the door and Hannibal came in. "Amy, I forgot to give you your pills earlier, the doctor said to take a couple more before you go to bed tonight."

"Thanks, Hannibal," Amy said.

Hannibal noticed Murdock and asked, "Everything okay here?"

"Sure," they answered.

"Uh-huh," Hannibal said in that 'I don't even want to know' tone, he went over to Amy and gave her the bottle of pills.

"You'll stay here tonight and then tomorrow we'll see how you're doing, if you'll be able to go back to your place and stay there alone," Hannibal told her.

Amy swallowed the pills and said, "Thanks, Hannibal, I hate putting you out for the night, I could probably go home tonight."

"Yeah well do this and humor an old man, will you?" Hannibal asked as he pulled the covers up over her and kissed her on her cheek.

Amy managed a smile and said, "Hannibal, do you mind?" she knocked the covers down and gestured to the blouse and skirt she was still wearing and pointed out, "This isn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep in for the night."

"Oh…right…ah…" Hannibal turned to Jean and said, "How bout it, Jean? You're a woman, you think you can help her?"

"You're lucky," Jean told Amy as she helped her up, "If it was me he'd be stripping me down himself. I'll see if I can find something in his closet you can wear."

Amy went over to Hannibal and said quietly to him, "Hey Hannibal, I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"Well I know that you risked getting caught to get me to the hospital," she said.

Hannibal shrugged and said, "All in a day's work, kid. Now get some rest, I'll see you in the morning."


	10. Chapter 10: Renfield

10. Renfield

Hannibal _had_ been asleep, or at least he thought he had, but the raging storm outside was starting to make him wonder if he'd only imagined being asleep. It wasn't that storms bothered him, but when one minute you're sleeping peacefully and the next minute your heart's in your throat and you're about to swing from the chandelier from a crashing BOOM of thunder, it didn't exactly make you a fan of the unexpected weather either.

He was laying in bed with his arms folded under his head and he looked up at the ceiling and also at his window every time the whole room lit up. He wondered how long the storm would last, he also wondered how long it would take before he would fall back asleep. And then he heard his bedroom door slowly creaking open, and he had a feeling he got the answer for the second question. He sat up and saw Murdock quietly padding into the room, dressed in his pajamas and wrapped up in a red, black and white plaid blanket that he usually kept in the van. He had it wrapped up clear around his face so only his eyes and the bridge of his nose showed over it. When lightning flashed again Hannibal could see that his eyes were wide but tired.

"Murdock," Hannibal said quietly, "You alright?"

"Hu…" Murdock brought the blanket down from his face and just wrapped it around him like a cloak and said, "Yeah, I'm fine, Colonel, some storm we're having ain't it?"

Hannibal felt dumbstruck and credited it partly to being tired. Murdock had come by his apartment once again to spend the night with him; it had been raining when Murdock arrived so they'd just stayed in, ate dinner, watched TV, and then Hannibal had retired to his room to get some rest, but Murdock stayed up watching TV in the living room. Face had talked to Hannibal earlier and commented on how much time Murdock seemed to be spending with Hannibal at his apartment lately.

"Well he knows I'll be moving in with you guys soon and I think he's gotten kind of fond of the place…besides, I consider it making up for lost time given all those years he spent in the V.A. and couldn't visit."

"Yeah I guess that's true," Face said.

Hannibal was able to read something between those lines and he smirked, "What's the matter, Lieutenant, jealous?"

"Oh believe me," Face said, "I've been seeing plenty of him lately. He's getting his lost puppy act down to a T, keeps hanging on me every chance he gets."

Hannibal chuckled, "So how are you liking the new place?"

"Well you probably could've guessed, B.A. made sure his room is the farthest from the spare room for Murdock," Face told him, "Mine's _not_ so far from it…it's pretty nice here, Hannibal, it'll be good when you move in."

"Well I'm looking forward to it," Hannibal said, "Until then I think Murdock and I have a few more men's nights in scheduled for here."

Usually those occasions could be gotten through _without_ Murdock keeping him up all night. But Hannibal was guessing this wasn't going to be one of those nights.

"Is that what got you up, the storm?" Hannibal asked.

"Well…no," Murdock confessed, "I haven't been to sleep yet."

"And why not?" Hannibal wanted to know.

"There was an old Dracula movie on TV that I wanted to watch," Murdock said, "I think it was the original...well original Dracula anyway, not that silent German one."

Hannibal could tell without even looking at the clock that that movie had ended over half an hour ago.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," he said as he stood his pillows up behind him so he could sit up against it and look at the captain, "Did the movie scare you?"

Murdock laughed haughtily, "I'm not scared of Dracula, that giant mosquito doesn't bother me any…"

"Well good," Hannibal said.

"It's his lackey Renfield that scared me," Murdock said as he jumped onto the unoccupied side of the bed, "Those beady eyes and that demented smile and that horrible laugh," Murdock let out a high pitched scream and pulled his blanket up around him again, "Eating spiders and flies and talking about thousands of red eyed rats, EEEEK!"

Hannibal felt two strong hands gripping him as Murdock clung to him. This was a difficult one, this was one time where Hannibal couldn't tell if Murdock was just trying to be funny because he was bored and lonely, or if he was truly scared out of his mind, there were times it was hard to tell; for a while now, Murdock had gotten his straight acts down pat before revealing the punch line in situations similar to this. Hannibal decided to approach with caution. He stroked over the top of Murdock's head and said calmly to him, "Murdock, you know that it's just a movie, that was playing on everybody's TV tonight."

Murdock groaned and told Hannibal, "Gonna need a lot more blankets then."

"Murdock," Hannibal spoke softly to him, "Now you know that movie wasn't real."

"I know it wasn't, but Dracula _was_ based on a real person, so don't you think it's possible that Renfield could've been too?"

"Well, I suppose it's possible," Hannibal conceded, "But Murdock, even if that were true, those people have been dead for centuries, in order for them to still be alive today they'd have to be over 500 years old."

"Yeah, but Hannibal, vampires don't age," Murdock reminded him as he sat up and pulled his blanket tighter around himself.

"I know they don't," he replied, "But you know that I'm right."

"Yeah I guess so," Murdock reluctantly responded, "It's just that Renfield…"

By now it was obvious to Hannibal that the Captain wasn't pulling his leg, something about that movie had genuinely gotten Murdock spooked, so he decided to try and settle the matter so they could both go to sleep.

"Murdock, I know a bit about the history of Hollywood, the man who played Renfield in that movie was a bit actor called Dwight Frye, he was just an actor from Kansas who got stuck typecast in horror roles."

"Yeah, I know," Murdock said, "But…"

"What's the matter, Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"But what you don't understand, Colonel," Murdock said as he looked at Hannibal, "Is how well he played a _true_ lunatic…I remember guys like that from the V.A., now I don't mean just the typical run-of-the-mill zany fantasy life lunatics like myself…I mean _really_ insane…these guys would just as soon bite out your throat as look at you…and they all had that wild stare and that horrible laugh…that..." Murdock started wringing his hands and assumed a demented stare and that crazy, guttural sound emanating from his throat that Hannibal could only describe as a cawing sound through clenched teeth, like some deranged bird or something.

Ah, now it all made sense.

"And the worst part of it was," Murdock told Hannibal as he resumed his normal disposition, "They didn't have the excuse of being under the power of a bloodsucker like Dracula, they were _naturally_ like that, and likewise there was no Dracula to put them out of their misery like he did to Renfield when he became useless to him, we were stuck with them full time."

"I see," he said as he put his arm around the overwrought Captain's back, "I'm sorry, Murdock."

Murdock told him, "There _are_ things about the V.A. that I miss," a chill seemed to run through him as he became rigid, sucked in a sudden breath and shivered, "But that sure ain't one of them…I remember those guys and when I remember them, like right now, I am _really_ glad I am out of there."

"So are we, Captain," Hannibal said as he pulled the pilot into a hug, "So are we." He patted Murdock on the back a couple of times and asked him, "Now, you think you can go to sleep?"

"Do I have to go back out there?" Murdock pointed to the living room.

"No, you can stay here with me if you want," Hannibal answered.

"Oh I'd like that, Colonel," Murdock said, and even in the momentary darkness Hannibal could see the relief on the pilot's face, "I'd really like that a whole lot better."

"Alright," Hannibal pulled back the covers for Murdock to slip underneath. He did, but kept his own blanket cocooned around him. Hannibal pulled the covers back up and did as well of a job of tucking Murdock in as he could while laying in bed next to him, "That good?"

"Yes," Murdock said as he kept part of his blanket draped over his mouth and nose.

"Good, now go to sleep," Hannibal told him.

Right after he said that there was one loud CRASH of thunder that made the whole apartment shake and for one brief moment, Hannibal Smith was 11 years old again as he joined Murdock in burrowing under the covers. When the noise died down and the vibrations stopped, both men emerged from under the blankets and looked at each other and laughed.

"Goodnight, Hannibal," Murdock said.

"Goodnight, Murdock," Hannibal replied.


	11. Chapter 11: Negotiations

11. Negotiations

"Forget it, Hannibal, I'm not doing it."

"Oh come on, B.A., what's the worst that could happen?"

"_You_," B.A. told Hannibal, "Show a stunning lack of common sense, _what_ could go wrong? A hundred things, easy."

The two men were seated in Hannibal's apartment one dreary afternoon when a surprise cold snap had hit the city brought in on 50 mph winds that had forced a lot of people to remain indoors to avoid the flying debris, and to cancel any immediate outdoor plans. Hannibal had mentioned that it gave them a perfect chance to discuss what he felt was a pressing issue.

"B.A., you're not being fair," Hannibal said, "Murdock _wants_ to come to the daycare center and help, what could go wrong?"

"Are you nuts?" B.A. asked, "Plenty, I don't want that crazy fool around them innocent kids, he'll try an' make them crazy like he always tries to make me."

"Murdock is great with kids," Hannibal said.

"So's a grinder's monkey, and I'd sooner let one of them around those kids than Murdock."

Hannibal laughed and said, "Oh come on, B.A., be reasonable."

"Why should I start now?" B.A. asked, "Hannibal, you remember the time Faceman went to break that fool out of the hospital, and we had the van waiting by the curb, and out comes that fool running across the lawn in his underwear covered in finger paint?"

"Oh yeah…I believe his explanation was an 'interpretative art lesson'," Hannibal said.

"That," B.A. pointed at the Colonel, "Is just one reason why I don't want him around those kids."

"B.A., that was just a phase, like the time Murdock thought he was a coffee table," Hannibal said as if it was the most rational thing in the world.

"Don't even get me started on that," B.A. told him, "That fool thinking he's somebody else is bad enough, but when he gets it in his head that he's a _thing_, it's even worse."

"Oh, you mean like the time he thought he was a plaid sports coat named Willy?" Hannibal asked and grinned, "I seem to recall he tried fitting himself around you."

"That's _another_ bad influence I don't want him teaching to those kids," B.A. said, "Hannibal, I work with kids to help them, I _don't_ want that fool there making them _worse_."

"Murdock will be great with the kids, he always is," Hannibal insisted, "Remember that case we took a couple years ago with the couple's 12-year-old son who was kidnapped? And _you_ had the bright idea of driving the tank _right_ into the kidnappers' home and tore the whole place apart? _Still_ managing to keep the second floor intact, which is where Murdock found him."

"Yeah alright, I guess he' been alright a few times with the kids," B.A. said, "I just don't want him teaching them any of his crazy stuff, I don't want him getting them started on invisible dogs or imaginary bugs, or teaching them anything like that time he Velcroed himself to the ceiling of his room at the hospital."

Hannibal chuckled as he recollected that incident and replied, "Have to give him points for creativity though, and maybe he could help bring some of that out in the kids."

B.A. was getting the sinking sensation that he was losing this argument, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"You know how he is, Hannibal," B.A. said, "I got a hard time trusting him to do what he's supposed to do, you know how much he takes off and does something else instead."

"Murdock is a very responsible person," Hannibal insisted, "Why do you think he's been our pilot for all these years? On second thought, don't answer that," he added when he caught the murderous glare from his sergeant at the mere mention of flying.

"Man might be responsible, but he ain't sane," B.A. responded.

"Legally speaking he is," Hannibal reminded him.

"Legally speaking _we_ robbed a million dollars from the Bank of Hanoi, what's legal don't hold much water with me," B.A. returned.

"Alright, point taken," Hannibal said, "But you _know_ that Murdock can keep his mind on the job when it counts, and where kids are concerned it _does_ count. He's not going to do anything to put any of them in danger, and if anything I'd worry about him catching _their_ bad habits. Come on, B.A., give him a chance to prove you wrong, he may surprise you."

"I don't like his surprises," B.A. shook his head.

Hannibal rolled his eyes and sighed as B.A. got up and went into the kitchen. Hannibal got up from his chair, followed the man in and continued the conversation.

"B.A., you know I don't like pulling rank…"

"Since when?" B.A. asked.

"_But_," Hannibal continued, "I will if I have to, and if I have to I can and _will_ make this a direct order to you, Staff Sergeant, that you take Captain Murdock with you and let him help. You said before that they're short-staffed this week, you have a ready, willing and able volunteer whose past record speaks volumes about his ability to deal with children, including difficult ones, now, are we going to solve this matter the easy way, or do I have to come down there and sit on the both of _you_ to make sure _you_ don't pass off your bad attitude onto the kids you're supposed to be helping?"

B.A. turned around and glared at Hannibal but said nothing for several long seconds.

"I don't like this, Hannibal."

"Nobody said you had to, but I think Murdock will surprise you," Hannibal told him.

"I _know_ he will," B.A. said, "I just don't know with what."

"B.A.," Hannibal said in that borderline condescending tone he was well known for, "Have a little faith."

"Little's all I got left in this fool," B.A. said, "He's just gotten too weird for anything else."

* * *

The next afternoon when Hannibal answered his door, B.A. came in without a word.

"Well I'm guessing by the look on your face that all went well," Hannibal said.

"Yeah, it was actually alright," B.A. said, "You were right, Murdock _is_ good with the kids, they liked him a lot. For a crazy fool, he' actually pretty smart with those kids, he helped divide them up into teams for the baseball game, actually did alright coaching, _then_ refereeing when two of the kids got into an argument, and he managed to get some of the new ones to talk. Then by the end of the day they had a _real_ good time with the fool."

"That's good to hear," Hannibal said, "But where _is_ Murdock?"

He got his answer when he heard someone at the door, it sounded like someone kicking it. Hannibal answered the door again and was surprised when he saw Murdock waddle in tied up from head to food in bright colored streamers.

"What happened to you?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock tried answering but it was muffled around the streamers he'd been gagged with. Hannibal looked back at B.A. who had his back to the two men, but it was obvious from his body movement that he was just about to bust open laughing. Hannibal unwrapped a few streamers and Murdock let out a noisy sigh of relief and said, "Thank you, Colonel."

"Murdock, what happened to you?"

Murdock scowled and nodded his head in B.A.'s direction, "Well, all went well until a certain mudsucker thought it would be funny to let the kids make a maypole out of me."

Hannibal turned back to B.A. and said in his commanding voice, "I'm surprised at you, Sergeant."

"Why?" B.A. asked, managing to keep a straight face.

As did Hannibal, when he asked, "A maypole in March?"

Murdock rolled his eyes.

"So what do you say, Murdock?" B.A. asked with a big grin on his face, "Want to come back tomorrow?"

"Ah, you know what, B.A., I'd love to but I think I've already got something else scheduled," Murdock said as Hannibal managed to get him unraveled.

B.A. shrugged and said, "Alright, if that's what you want."


	12. Chapter 12: Sibling Rivalry

12. Sibling Rivalry

Jean let out a mouth stretching yawn as she took her soda into the living room of Hannibal's apartment where everybody was gathered around discussing the details of Hannibal's latest plan.

"Hannibal, you know that these schemes always work better if I have a woman to take in with me," Face said, "People may suspect that I alone am a fake, but they would never suspect a couple of being frauds."

"So where do we get a woman on short notice?" Hannibal asked smartly.

Murdock raised his hand and pointed over to Jean who was sitting beside him on the couch.

"A tempting offer, Murdock, but I don't think they'd buy Jean," Hannibal said.

"What about Amy?" Face asked, "When I talked to her the other day she said her shoulder's better, she could do it."

"Call her up and see if she's interested," Hannibal said.

"You guys got her shot the last time she helped you and now you're asking her to go another round?" Jean asked, "How much a glutton for punishment do you think she is?"

"It's nothing like that this time," Hannibal told her, "She's going to help Face get the supplies we need."

"Famous last words," Jean said.

* * *

"You want me to what?" Amy asked.

"We go in together, sell this guy a story about being new in the area and needing some equipment to get started on our rustic vacation," Face started to explain.

"Of course for that it will require a change of clothes," Jean pointed out and told Amy, "Right now you look as ready for the outdoors as Eva Gabor in Green Acres."

"Thanks a lot," she cynically replied.

"Uh," Jean raised her hand and asked, "How're you two going to go into this?"

"What do you mean?" Face asked as he turned to look back towards her.

"I mean are you two going in as a married couple, or as brother and sister?" Jean thought about it and added, "Or what's the difference?"

Face's eyes bugged out, "What do you _mean_ what's the difference?"

"I mean what's the difference in your husband and wife act and your brother/sister act?" Jean asked, "There really _is_ very little difference you know."

"Are you nuts?" Face asked.

"Well," Jean gestured to Murdock.

Face rolled his eyes and groaned, Jean took that opportunity to speak up.

"I'll tell you something, Face, for all the time Murdock and I were married, when we went out in public together, people always asked if he was my brother," she said, "Haven't you ever noticed? Siblings fight all the time, and so do married people, the only difference is that there's no such thing as spousal rivalry."

"Hmm," Hannibal took the cigar out of his mouth, "She has a point, Lieutenant. I never thought about that."

Face and Amy looked at each other and Face said uncertainly, "Well I don't know, what do you think, Amy?"

She looked him up and down and said teasingly, "I'm not sure…what would I ever see in somebody like you? I guess I'd have to be stuck with you by birth."

Face growled under his breath and reached over and messed up her bangs.

"That's married alright," Jean said, "But it doesn't look right."

"Now what're you babbling about?" Face wanted to know.

"I mean you don't look like Amy's type for _either_, Murdock looks more her type," Jean said.

"Are you serious?" Face asked.

Jean gave Murdock a light shove and told him, "Get over there, let's see how it looks."

Murdock got up from the couch, took Face's place standing next to Amy, and the others looked at them and considered.

"Murdock," Jean raised a finger and tapped the side of her head. Murdock took the hint and removed his cap.

"Hmm," Hannibal said as he walked around them, taking a look, "It might just work…they _do_ almost look related."

"Either way it's a no win situation to be stuck with that fool," B.A. said.

"I don't know, Hannibal," Face said, "I mean Murdock is very good at scamming airplanes and helicopters, things like that no doubt, but…"

"But what?" Jean asked, "Face, anybody who's been around you long enough would have no problem scamming 2 cases of road flares, two dozen kerosene lamps, half a dozen mosquito nets, and 100 feet worth of fly paper," she turned to Hannibal and added skeptically, "Butwhat _do_ you want it all for?"

"Oh, you'll see," Hannibal told her.

"Oh, I'm coming along?" she asked.

"No, we're going to put everything together _here_."

"_Definitely_ kiss your cleaning deposit goodbye," Jean said.

Murdock looked to the reporter and asked her, "Well what do you think, Amy?"

"Think of what, you as my big, older, stronger brother?" Amy asked.

"Well two out of three ain't bad," Jean said.

Murdock stuck his tongue out at her. Amy stole Murdock's cap and put it on, Murdock drew his hand back like he was going to punch her but instead just placed his hand on her face and pushed her back slightly. Then he turned around, and Amy took two large steps towards him and playfully kicked him in his seat.

"I still say there's no difference," Jean told the others.

* * *

Face checked his watch and said, "Murdock and Amy have been gone for a while, I hope everything's going alright."

Right now it was just he and Jean in the apartment. While Murdock and Amy were out getting all the wilderness supplies, Hannibal and B.A. were checking the equipment in the van to make sure they had all the practical stuff.

Jean looked at the clock and commented, "I'm sure they're doing alright." She put her book down and said to the Lieutenant, "Hey Face, I just thought of something, do Murdock and Amy ever do anything together when she's _not_ helping you guys on a mission?"

Face had to stop and think. "…I don't think so, why?"

"Just seems odd," she replied, "She's not a member of the Team but she is a _part_ of it, and you four do all kinds of stuff when you ain't working on a mission, just seems to me that since Murdock is so far around the bend on her that he _would_ do something with her in their free time as well."

Face looked up from his magazine with a puzzled look on his face. He turned towards Jean and asked her, "What makes you say that?"

"Come on, Face, Murdock and a pretty girl, what more one he has constant access to, you can't say you haven't noticed that he likes her, _almost_ as much as you do I'd say," Jean told him.

Face turned his head and glared at her.

Jean seemed to take an immense pleasure in making him uncomfortable and she folded her arms against her chest and sat down on the arm of Hannibal's couch and added, "And please, don't act like it's some big surprise, like I couldn't possibly have known. I've seen how you look at Amy, it's not _quite_ how you look at all those bimbos you have walking around on your arms all the time. You use those women, you may like them but I know they don't mean anything to you, not like Amy does anyway."

Face let out an exasperated huff and said, "Boy you're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I'm the best," she replied, "I told Amy when she was shot, Murdock went all to pieces over her, because he loves her, she pretended that she didn't know, just like she pretended she doesn't love him…but I know they do…but it's not like she thinks anyway. The reason they work so well together _as_ a brother and sister act is because that's exactly what they are, _you_ however…"

"I what?" Face asked.

"You're not attached to any woman and Amy is the most available one within your reach," Jean said, "If one of you's going to make a move in her direction, it's going to be you, I'll guarantee it."

"Boy you sure got a lot of nerve," Face told her.

"I know it," she replied proudly.

"You really think that there's anything between me and her?" Face asked.

"I think there could be," Jean said, "Despite the fact that she seems to be the only woman in the world, _other_ than myself, who cools your lava."

Face sneered at her and laughed bitterly and commented, "Yeah and as usual you're just a big glass of ice water. You got a big mouth, Jean, you know that?"

She showed her teeth in a cold smirk and replied, "And I just bet you'd love to see how it looks without any teeth, wouldn't you? Go ahead, take your best shot."

* * *

"I still don't get what Hannibal's going to do with all of this stuff, Murdock," Amy said during the drive back to Hannibal's apartment.

"Well he hasn't exactly told the rest of us yet either, I think he's still putting it all together," Murdock told her.

Amy looked out her side window and saw everything racing by. She also noted the gray clouds starting to move in and shade everything from the sun.

"Murdock," she said, "Why didn't you bring Jean with you for this job?"

"Hannibal said they wouldn't buy her as Face's girlfriend," Murdock explained.

Amy looked at him and said, "But _you_ were given the job instead, why didn't you take her with you then?"

"Well…I think it'll do her some good to be in an enclosed space with the Faceman for a while…they've still got some stuff to work through."

"What kind of stuff?" Amy asked.

"Well…like what she was talking about earlier, it's kind of a sibling rivalry thing, these two are always going at each other's throats…when Hannibal suggested I come instead, I figured we could leave them behind and let them work it out."

"What if they kill each other?" Amy asked him.

"Then they would've done it long before now, you missed out on a lot of it, Amy, these two used to go at each other all the time before you got back from Jakarta," Murdock explained.

"Why's that?"

"Well it's a long story, uh…I guess part of it is we're looking at 2 different generations here, see Face was brought up, as we all were, in the generation of you don't hit girls, you don't let anybody else hit them, that kind of stuff, but Jean is a firm believer in knocking their heads off and spitting down their throats if the situation calls for it. And she's definitely been trying Faceman's patience as well as his traditional beliefs towards women."

Amy was trying to follow it but she felt clueless. "Well why's she doing that?"

"Trying to bring him over to the dark side," Murdock said with a mad scientist cackle, "I think she's honestly trying to get him to clock her, because she knows the _last_ thing Faceman wants to do is hit a girl."

Amy laughed and said, "I get the feeling Face doesn't quite see her as being all girl."

"You noticed that too, eh?" Murdock asked, "Well, she certainly uses it to her advantage."

"So noted," Amy replied, "Murdock, how did you ever fall in love with a crazy woman like that?"

"You mean besides the obvious of _I'm_ crazy too?" he asked, flashing an innocent grin, "Be honest, I'm not exactly sure I know, it just sort of happened."

Amy nodded understandingly and said, "Well, I'm happy for the both of you."

"Oh I really appreciate that, Amy," Murdock told her, "You know we ain't exactly worked out a date for our new wedding yet, but whenever it is, you think you'll be available for it?"

"Sure," Amy answered with a smile, "Whenever you need me."

Murdock glanced over and smiled at her and said, "Thanks, Amy, I really appreciate it, and I know Jean does too, she just don't like saying anything."

"I get the feeling she doesn't like women very much," Amy noted.

"Yeah I kind of get that feeling too," Murdock confessed, "I guess it's 'cuz she…she don't really fit in with the rest of them, you know?"

"Oh," Amy nodded and laughed, "Believe me I've noticed. I guess that's why I was surprised to hear that you'd actually married her."

"Really?" he looked to her again.

"Well, you and Face are a lot alike, you go out with a woman, and she's more…."

"Like you?" Murdock asked teasingly.

"I was going to say feminine," Amy said.

"That's what I mean," he said, and laughed, "I still remember the time we went to San Rio Blanco, and they got you in on the film commission scam, you in that pink dress going on about the missing script pages. Ooh you had that guy going."

Amy laughed as she also recalled it and said, "Yeah…for some reason I just can't see Jean pulling it off the same way."

"You kidding me? She'd strangle you with that dress and tie it around your neck for a bowtie before she'd wear it," Murdock told her, "Or _any_ for that matter.'

Amy tried to stop laughing and she asked Murdock, "Why do you think she's like that?"

"After wearing that wedding dress at Calvin Cutter's ceremony, I can take a guess," Murdock told her, "They're not practical for running in _at all_."

* * *

"Hannibal, we're back!" Murdock called as he and Amy made their way up the stairs to the apartment.

The response wasn't an expected one however. They heard the sound of something crashing and something else that sounded like someone moaning in pain, and they ran up the stairs. Right outside Hannibal's apartment, Jean was sitting pressed against the wall with both hands covering the sides of her head, her eyes were squeezed shut and she was just about screaming in pain and Face was knelt down right beside her, looking confused.

"What did you do to her?" Amy asked Face.

"Me!?" Face did a double take as he got up, "I didn't do anything to her! She just fell down and started groaning."

Murdock knelt down at Jean's side and tried talking to her to get her to open her eyes, that didn't work so he settled for just grabbing her hands and gently pulling them down from her head. "What's the matter, Jean, what happened?"

Jean was all but crying as she forced her eyes open slightly and begged him, "Shoot me, Murdock, just shoot me…"

"She just started doing this, I don't know what's wrong with her," Face said.

Murdock placed the tips of his fingers against various parts of her head and watched as she shrank back against the contact and continued to groan.

"It's a migraine, she gets them sometimes, especially if we're in for a storm," Murdock said as he slipped one arm behind her back and helped her up and then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the apartment.

Amy ran over and held the door open as he came in and carried Jean into the bedroom. Murdock called out to Face to turn on the weather report and see what the forecast was, then he got Jean settled on Hannibal's bed and went to look through the medicine cabinet for some pills. When he came back with a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water, Jean's face was scrunched up in a mask of pain and she had one hand clutching her forehead.

"Come on, hon, take these and then you can try sleeping it off," he said as he helped her sit up to take the pills.

Jean swallowed the pills but looked the entire time as though that alone was putting her through further excruciating pain. Murdock tried getting her comfortable on the bed and then went to the window to close the curtains, but when he did he could see the sky was suddenly becoming dark with a bunch of clouds moving in at a fast pace. He heard Jean moaning from the bed and he closed the curtains and went back to her.

"It's alright, Jean, looks like the rain's gonna start soon and then you're gonna be alright," he said as he took one of her hands in his and rubbed it comfortingly.

Jean closed her eyes tightly and kept her mouth clamped shut but the agonizing moans and whimpers still worked their way loose.

"Just try and take it easy, darling," he said as he carefully placed his other hand on her forehead and stroked up to the crown of her head, "Just try and get some sleep, it's alright, I'll be here."

Amy and Face watched from the doorway and then without a word, pulled back into the living room and looked at each other.

"How often does she get those migraines?" Amy asked.

"Only once that I know of," Face told her, "Remember that time before Christmas when we had to cancel dinner at her house?"

Amy blinked, "Only once and Murdock's already an expert on them?"

"Must be _some_ migraine," Face commented.

* * *

Hannibal and B.A. had finished restocking everything in the van and were making their way back to the building entrance when the wind picked up. Hannibal wasn't sure how hard it was blowing, he would definitely guess well over 50 miles an hour, it got strong enough he could hardly walk for a couple instances, so the sergeant who outweighed him by at least 50 pounds and an additional 40 in gold jewelry, got behind him and pushed him all the way to the front doors.

"Real storm blowing in this one," Hannibal noted as they got inside.

B.A. pushed the door shut and locked it, it was a safe bet nobody else would be coming in here, few people were tenants in this building as it was.

"Let's see if the others got back yet," Hannibal told him as they started up the stairs.

They got up to the third floor and were talking to each other as they went into the apartment, but were immediately met by Amy and Face who were sitting on the couch and both addressed the men with a loud, "Shhhh!"

"What's the matter?" Hannibal whispered.

Amy pointed to the bedroom, "Jean's sick, she's been begging Murdock to shoot her."

"What?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal went over to the bedroom and peered in. Jean and Murdock lay beside each other on top of the bed, both of them appeared to be asleep or at least near it, but every time Jean moved at all she whimpered in her sleep. Hannibal spotted a bottle of pills on the nightstand and recognized it as the painkillers he kept in the bathroom. He also took into consideration the closed blinds and stepped back out.

"The human barometer strikes again," he said.

"What?" Face asked.

"This has happened before when we got hit by a bad storm," Hannibal explained.

"How often?" Amy asked.

"Oh…once or twice," he answered.

Amy and Face looked at each other again with equally puzzled expressions.

* * *

Murdock moved his head from side to side and realized the sounds he was hearing weren't part of a dream, he opened his eyes and saw Jean on the other side of the bed groaning.

"Jean," he said in a low voice as he reached over and touched her, "Jean, you alright?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, then closed her eyes and rubbed them with one hand and asked him, "What time is it?"

Murdock pulled himself up onto his knees to look over at the clock and saw it was after 5 o' clock. Then he heard something else and he went over to the window and pulled back the curtain, it was pouring down rain outside.

"Jean, how's your head feeling?" he asked.

"My head?" she asked, confused. Then after a minute it came back to her, "It's better now…what time is it?"

"5 o' clock, and the rains just came," Murdock told her.

"5 o' clock? Holy crap," Jean muttered as she got to her feet, "Another day wasted on these stupid headaches."

"Technically it was just an afternoon," he replied.

Jean looked to him, surprised, "And you were here with me the whole time?"

He turned away from the window to see her and asked, "Where else would I be?"

"Hannibal's going to be mad about this," Jean said.

The door opened and Hannibal leaned in, hanging on the doorknob, and he said, "Oh I don't know, I'm known for being endearing too at times. I heard you two getting up, how're you feeling, kid?"

"Better now," she said.

"I figured you might," Hannibal told her, "We got a real mother of a storm coming down out there, nobody's going to be going _anywhere_ tonight unless it clears up and fast."

"Hannibal, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for Murdock to," Jean started to say, but was cut off.

"It's alright, Jean, we got everything taken care of," he told her.

"I'm sorry, I usually don't get these headaches," she said.

"It's alright, Jean, it couldn't be helped. Hey listen, dinner's going to be ready in a few minutes, are you guys hungry?"

"Sure," they answered.

"Good," and with that, Hannibal turned and left the room.

"He's in an unusually good mood tonight, has he been drinking?" Jean asked.

Murdock laughed and told her, "Come on."

* * *

Out in the living room, B.A., Face and Amy were watching the TV, but of them all, Face hadn't been paying much attention. He wanted to believe that Murdock had been right about the weather being the cause for Jean's headache but he just didn't know. He hadn't told the others that right before they got back, he and Jean had been having a heated argument and it had led out into the hall so nothing of Hannibal's got broken. Thinking back now he wasn't sure that anything _would_ have come of it but he wasn't about to get blamed for busting up any of Hannibal's furniture.

As they waited for any sign of improvement, he sat on the couch and his face cringed up and he looked like _he_ was the one with a migraine. Of all days to let Jean get to him, _why_ did he have to let it be today? She always ran her mouth off with him because she knew she could, and was always trying to get a provoked response out of him, and now this…if it turned out he'd had anything to do with what happened to Jean...of course realistically he knew that was impossible, still, it didn't make him feel any better. Ohhh, he could just imagine what Hannibal was going to do to him if he found out about this. He about jumped off the couch when the bedroom door opened, first Hannibal came out, and then a couple minutes later, Murdock and Jean emerged as well. He and Amy got up and went over to them.

"Jean, are you alright?" Amy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

Face pushed his way between them and said, intending for only Jean to hear, "Hey listen, Jean, I'm sorry about what I said earlier."

She looked at him as if she almost couldn't remember what he'd said, she shook her head dismissively and told him, "Don't worry about it, Face."

She moved past him and over to the kitchen, and Amy came up behind Face and asked him, "What did you say to her?"

Face turned to look at her and he explained, "I'll tell you later."

Murdock watched them from the doorway in the kitchen and he commented with a knowing smirk on his face, "You know, Saint, I do believe Face is getting sweet on Amy."

"You noticed that too, eh?" Jean replied and shrugged innocently, "I thought it was just me."


	13. Chapter 13: Physical Training

13. Physical Training

"I thought we were supposed to be having dinner here tonight," Jean told Murdock as she sat down on the arm of the couch beside him, "What's keeping Hannibal and Face? Didn't he say they were picking it up and then coming here?"

Murdock tiredly raised his arm to check his watch. He had to side with her, they'd been waiting on dinner for so long that he was ready to give up and start chewing the pillows on the couch.

"Hannibal said there was something he wanted to bring up with Face," Murdock recalled, "Maybe that's what's keeping them."

"For as long as they've been gone he must be reciting The Odyssey," Jean replied as she fell off the arm and back against his lap.

"Well at least one good thing's coming out of this," he said as he leaned down to kiss her.

"We're back!" Face said as he stormed in the front door.

"Bah," Murdock said as he straightened up and gave Jean a slight shove off of him.

"Were you _making_ the dinner?" Jean asked.

"Hey listen," Face ignored her and said to Murdock as he put the takeout on the table, "I just got the bad news."

"What bad news?" Murdock asked.

"Hannibal's getting a new obstacle course set up for us to run tomorrow," Face said.

"Oh no, not again," Murdock groaned.

Jean opened one of the containers on the table and smelled the food before actually looking at it. It looked like straight fries and popcorn shrimp, but she wouldn't bet money on that.

"What is this stuff?" she asked him.

"Huh?" Face turned to her, "Oh, we decided to try the food from some new place."

"Yeah?" Jean picked up the container and said, "I think I'll stick it in the oven, you know how it is with fish, can't risk undercooking."

"So did you get any idea what this new one's going to be like?" Murdock asked.

"I tried," Face shook his head, "Hannibal's not budging on the details."

"Oh boy," Murdock groaned.

"I think I just lost my appetite," Face said, dreading what was going to come tomorrow.

"Then I'll have yours too," Murdock said as he picked up another container, "Run that course tomorrow I'm going to need all the fuel I can get to run on."

"Is this going to be like that last course?" Jean asked as she came out of the kitchen, "With Hannibal shooting at us and the electrified fences and all that?"

"Hannibal never does the same thing twice, part of his 'original' sense of humor that nobody else finds funny," Face explained.

"He always changes a couple of things, keeps everybody on their toes," Murdock told her.

"So where is he?" Jean asked, "Isn't he eating with us?"

"He's downstairs breaking the news to B.A.," Face said.

They spent a couple minutes getting everything ready for dinner, by that time Hannibal and B.A. had come up and joined them.

"Now, I'm only going to say this once," Hannibal told the others as they sat down to eat, "We leave tomorrow at 0500 hours."

"Ain't he cute when he tries being technical?" Jean asked Murdock humorously.

Hannibal scowled at her mockingly and told the others, "We're going to be gone all day tomorrow so cancel any plans you've got."

Jean reached over and tugged on the shoulder of his jacket to get his attention. He turned to her again and asked, "Something you want, Jean?"

"Yeah," she nodded once, "Can I come with you guys tomorrow?"

"What?!" Face asked.

Jean sat straighter and explained, "Not to get in your way, but can I come too and try out your obstacle course for a little fun?"

"Fun!?" Face repeated, "Ooh boy you got a sick sense of humor, Jean, you know that?"

Hannibal chuckled at the lieutenant's response and said to her, "I don't see why not, if you don't mind making the trip."

"I already go to work at 5 in the morning, that won't be anything new for me," Jean told him.

Face leaned across the table and whispered to Murdock, "Sadist, she really is, fun!?"

* * *

Hannibal yawned as he started to take off his uniform. He looked at the clock and saw it was only a quarter to 10, but after the day he'd had, he was exhausted, and he knew his men were as well. They'd all gone back to their respective homes to collapse in their own beds; all except Jean, who had stuck around with Hannibal for a while.

"Well I don't know about you but I had a good time today," Jean said.

Hannibal managed a tired smile as he unbuttoned his jacket, "I have a feeling you and I were the only ones."

"And you only did because you got to shoot at the others," Jean told him.

Hannibal turned his head and laughed when he saw Jean was still dressed in the fatigues she'd worn that day. He'd gotten similar surplus outfits for Murdock and Face since several parts of the obstacle course had caught and torn parts of their clothing previously, and he'd rather have some expendable clothes for them to run the course in than have to listen to Face gripe about ruining one of his workout suits, and likewise he didn't want to hear from Murdock about ruining one of his own customized T-shirts, _and_ he knew they weren't ready to deal with the awkwardness of Jean getting something embarrassing caught on the barbed wire, easier to just have a surplus army uniform to remove or burn afterwards. It was obvious from watching Jean that she was exhausted as well, but she was still at zenith and looked like a kid at Halloween who wasn't ready to remove her costume even though the night was over.

"Hey Hannibal," she said as she went over to his chair and sat down, "Thanks for letting me come with you guys."

He laughed as he replied, "I'm glad you enjoyed it, and surprised. Tell me something, how is it I've got three men under me in my Team and every single one of them gripes about having to run my obstacle courses, and you run the same course without a single complaint?"

"Because I'm _not_ under your command, and you know when _I_ run the course it doesn't count for anything," Jean said, "You're not holding me to the same standards in performance as them, I only do it for fun, and the exercise"

"Speaking of which," Hannibal reached under his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, "Exactly _what_ possessed you to come with us on the run?"

Jean shrugged, "Seemed better than being left alone."

"10 miles, I know you don't do that regularly," Hannibal told her.

Jean nodded and added half cynically, "And I don't run as fast as everybody else and I wasn't able to keep up with everybody the whole time, but the fact remains I ran the 10 miles and I never gave up once and I never complained once, doesn't that count for anything?"

Hannibal turned away from his full length mirror and looked at her instead of her reflection and he said, "Very much…but I still don't understand why you felt you had to come."

"To see if I could," Jean said, "Same reason people swim the English Channel, only reason anybody ever does it is to see _if_ they can do it."

"I suppose so," he replied.

In truth he had been _very_ surprised, both when Jean asked if she could join them on the run, and when she actually managed to finish it. As per his own train of thought, a 10 mile run was _not_ just a run, it was a dead run, it was a march, it was a climb, it was over dirt, sand, jagged rocks, everything that he thought they may encounter on a mission. For his own men to finish it wasn't anything spectacular, he put them through these training sessions all the time to keep everybody in tiptop shape. And he honestly hadn't expected Jean to try running the whole course, certainly not to finish it; and when she did, he looked down at her feet several times between then and the trip home to see if blood was pouring out of her boots. Looking at her now, he could tell that she was exhausted, and he decided it might be a good idea to get her back to her own place before she dropped.

"Why don't you get changed, and then I'll take you home?" he asked.

Jean got up from the chair and when he went into the bathroom to finishing changing out of his uniform, she went over to the bed and moved to lift her foot to the bed and undo the laces on her boot. But she remained where she stood, and slowly took in a heavy breath and called out, "HANNIBAL!"

Hannibal ran back into the bedroom and came up behind her and asked her, "What's wrong, Jean?"

Jean was doubled over the bed and the top half of her body was shaking as she took in a sharp breath, and tried to swallow the sound that still escaped from her throat.

"Hannibal," she said in a suddenly weaker voice, frightening him because she sounded close to tears, "Hannibal, I can't walk!"

* * *

"Maggie, are you sure?" Hannibal asked as he kept the receiver to one ear and kept the other sharp for any sounds from Jean, "You're sure that the run couldn't have done it? …okay…what about…what's that? Well how would we find out of it that's the problem?" Hannibal turned around as he got an earful of something he didn't want to hear. "Do those people make house calls? You do? Any idea when one of them could come out here? _Tomorrow_? Look, Maggie, is this something that we need to take her to the hospital for? I don't want to, but if we have to then I will…you think she'll be safe here for the night? You what?" Hannibal rolled his eyes, "Congratulations, but what's that got to do with this? Oh…I see…well…" he put the phone down and ran his free hand through his graying hair, "I can't think of anything like _that_ right off the bat but…" his eyes moved towards the door when he heard someone knocking, "Maggie, I've got to go now, see if you can get one of those specialists to come here in the morning, okay, goodbye."

He hung up the phone and went over to the door and opened it up, and Murdock all but fell into the apartment.

"Where is she, what's wrong? What's the matter?" Murdock asked frantically.

Hannibal put his hands on the pilot's shoulders to get his attention and told him, "Calm down, Murdock…Jean's in the bedroom, I don't think it would be a good idea to move her tonight."

"W-w-well w-wh-what's wrong with her?" Murdock asked as he pulled Hannibal's hands off of him, "Did she get hurt or what happened?"

"Captain, _calm down_," Hannibal ordered him, "Now look, I've got her in bed resting right now, I managed to get her wrangled into a pair of my pajamas for the night," he neglected to add the trouble he'd had getting her out of her uniform and into them. They were rather large on her but he figured they'd do for the time being.

"H-Hannibal you think maybe it was something at the course today or the, the 10 mile run?" Murdock asked, "I mean you know Jean's not used to that kind of strenuous activity…"

"I know, but I talked to Maggie about it and she doesn't think that it _was_ anything that we did today," Hannibal told him, "Now, Maggie's been seeing a psychiatrist, socially…"

"Well good for her but what's that got to do with this?" Murdock asked.

"You didn't let me finish," Hannibal told him.

"Oh, sorry."

"Anyway, he's been telling her about some new cases he's been seeing where a patient psychosomatically creates physical problems, you know anything about that, Murdock?"

Murdock nodded, "The mind is a very powerful thing, you can make yourself sick by thinking about it…but why would Jean _think_ herself into paralysis?"

"That was my question too, but this guy told Maggie about a woman who couldn't walk for 2 years and had to be on strict bedrest, and there was no known medical cause for it…years later it was theorized that it was built up in her mind because she'd left home at a young age and regretted the decision as soon as she landed on her own two feet, and if she was sick and couldn't walk, her mother would have to bring her home and take care of her until she was ready to leave on her own."

"So you think this could be something subconscious?" Murdock asked.

"It's a theory…now Maggie's going to send someone over tomorrow to look at Jean to determine if it actually is a purely physical problem or not, something that we're not seeing…but I think whatever's wrong with her, it would help her a lot if you were with her right now," Hannibal told him.

Murdock nodded frantically, and moved towards the bedroom.

He opened the door quietly and saw that Jean was in bed, but she wasn't asleep. She had her head turned to the side and buried in one of the pillows.

"Jean," he said in a low whisper as he closed the door behind him and moved towards her, "How're you feeling?"

Jean turned her head to the front to look at him and she managed a sad smile and replied in a quiet voice, "Hi, Murdock."

"What happened, hon?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly, "I don't know, Murdock, I just…one minute I was trying to get my boots off, and my legs just kind of locked up."

Murdock pulled the covers back slightly and saw that she was changed out of her fatigues and into a large pair of blue striped pajamas that fit her like she'd shrunk in the dryer. He ran his hand under the sheets and felt down to her feet.

"Feel that?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He moved his hand up and touched her knee. "Feel that?"

"I can feel it, I just can't move it," she said.

"Uh…" Murdock stood up straight and looked like somebody just stuck him with a pin and deflated him, "You mind if I lie down for a minute? I just ran all the way over here and I'm…" he sank onto the other side of the bed as he started to remove his jacket.

"I'm sorry Hannibal called you," Jean said.

"Don't be, this isn't something I would want to be kept in the dark about, if something's wrong with you, I ought to know it," he said.

Jean managed to keep a smile on her face but it wasn't convincing, as she said to him, "You know what really scares me, Murdock?"

He leaned over to her and asked, "What's that?"

She looked up at him and explained unusually calmly, "That one of these days, something like this is going to happen, and the doctors are going to say 'sorry, there's nothing we can do, you've already had too much damage happen to you'…you know how many times I've been in the hospital since I met you guys?"

It was obvious from watching her how much this thought truly scared her. Murdock could see her visibly shaking against the mattress and pillows and he could hear her teeth start to clack together like she was freezing.

"Jean," he said as he leaned over her and managed to reach his arms underneath her to hug her, "Now you know that's not going to happen."

"You can't be sure of that, Murdock," she replied as a stutter started to accompany her shaking, "And if it does…it'll be bad enough for me…but there's no reason why you should be stuck with that…with an, an, an-in-ev-alid, invalid for a wife."

The look in his eyes changed and she could see him clench his jaws together and he firmly told her, "_Don't_ talk like that."

Jean managed to pull the top half of her body up and she cupped his face in her hand and she told him quietly, "I love you," and kissed him. Then she let go of him and sank back against the bed and added, "But this doesn't have to be your problem, and I'd strongly urge you not to take it."

"Jean, I'm not going anywhere," he told her as he shook his head, "Not without you."

"Nothing's been finalized," she said, "Nothing's holding you to it."

"_I_ am," he replied.

"I'm scared, Murdock," Jean told him.

"I know," he said as he took her hand in his and squeezed it assuredly, "And if I was in your position I would be too…but tomorrow you'll be better, I think you just overdid it today, _what_ ever possessed you to think you could keep up with us on a 10 mile run?"

Jean smiled over her anxiety and exhaustion, "I did alright for the most part though, didn't I?"

"Considering you don't go through Hannibal's PT regiments on a regular basis like we do, yeah I'd say you did _very_ well."

"Good," she said as she closed her eyes.

* * *

Hannibal picked up the two frying pans from his stove and looked at each other of them. One was a cast iron skillet and the other was a light weight stainless steel model…well, not so stainless now after all the years he'd been using it. There was an obvious weight difference in the two and he tried figuring which would be best to use.

Murdock came into the kitchen dressed for the day and said, "Morning, Colonel."

"Morning, Murdock, Jean doing alright?"

"Well she's able to move around a little in the bed now, that's an improvement over last night," Murdock answered.

"Mm-hmm," Hannibal tested the weight of both frying pans at once, and turned to the captain and asked him, "Murdock, if you were trying to bash somebody's brains in, which of these would you use?"

Murdock looked at the two frying pans and seemed to seriously contemplate the question before reaching for the blackened cast iron pan.

"That's what I thought," Hannibal said as he put the other down and went into the bedroom, Murdock following behind him.

Jean was awake and sitting up in bed, Hannibal noticed she was seated in the middle now instead of off to one side but he didn't dare ask if she'd been able to move herself or if Murdock had put her there.

"How're you feeling, kid" he asked.

"Better," Jean said, but it was obvious she wasn't going to be getting up anytime soon.

"That's good," Hannibal told her, "Look, Jean, I've got to get down to the studio or I'm going to get fired, so unfortunately I won't be able to be here when the doctor comes…" he went over to the bed and put the frying pan down within her reach and told her, "But I'm leaving this here, so if that doctor tries giving you an injection without asking first, like the last one did, then just use this and beat his head in."

"Okay," Jean replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Hannibal sat down on the edge of the bed and told her, "Hey, I'll see you when I get home from work, okay?"

Jean nodded, "Okay."

"Good," Hannibal leaned over and kissed her and said as he got up. Then, with his hand being quicker than her eye, he snaked his hand under the blankets and tickled her foot. Jean reached out and kicked at him, which Hannibal took as a _large_ sign of improvement.

"And Murdock's going to be here incase you need anything," he added.

"Well, up till the doctor comes anyway," Murdock explained, "Then if I need to get out, I will."

"Oh don't," Jean said, "Don't leave me alone with whatever fruitcake Maggie's sending over, the whole lot of them are perverts, perverts or pushers, take your pick."

* * *

Hannibal didn't get back until late in the afternoon, he'd just gotten in the door when he saw Murdock and Jean in the living room; Jean had gotten dressed sometime during the day but now she was on her hands and feet on the floor, crouched down so low her knees were practically touching the carpet, and giving her some resemblance to a frog, Hannibal thought.

"Is that the way you walk now?" he inquired.

Jean looked up to Murdock and held her arm out to the side; Murdock reached down, grabbed it and helped pull her to her feet. Jean stood there for about a minute, not moving forward any though her knees moved a bit and a couple of times her legs wobbled and she started to crouch down again but kept herself on her feet and standing straight. Then she took one step forward, then another, and another, each one making a longer distance across the room than before. Hannibal looked amused and applauded her actions.

"So what did the doctor say?" he asked.

"He said that he _couldn't_ find anything that would cause temporary paralysis," Jean answered, "But he _did_ examine me and came back with about a dozen places where something's either pulled, pinched, or sprained in my legs, _and_ shin splints…he suggested I take it easy for the next few days and gave me some kind of goop to put on the sore spots, but at least now I can walk."

"Well good," Hannibal said, the expression on his face the tip of the iceberg for the relief washing through him.

Jean looked at him, appearing a bit disappointed, as she said, "So I guess I won't be running anymore obstacle courses anytime soon."

"Just as well," he told her, "I don't think we'll be doing the next one for a few months."

"Oh what a shame," Murdock sarcastically muttered under his breath.


	14. Chapter 14: Rainy Days, Stormy Nights

14. Rainy Days, Stormy Nights

It was the phone that woke Hannibal up.

By now the Colonel was quite used to being woken up in the middle of the night in a variety of ways for a variety of reasons, but by phone was not one of the more common ways. His was an unlisted number and damn few people had any access to it, so he knew if somebody was calling him at 2 o' clock in the morning, it _wasn't_ a wrong number.

"Hello?" he huffed into the phone, waiting for his heart to stop beating in his ears.

"Hannibal!" it was B.A.'s voice coming through the receiver, and he sounded anxious, "Hannibal…"

"B.A., what is it, what's the matter?" Hannibal asked.

"Hannibal is Murdock there?"

That made him stop. First he had to think about it, and then he remembered, yes, Murdock had been staying with him for the night. But then that made him wonder, _why_ was B.A. asking?

"Yeah B.A., Murdock's here, why?"

"Is he alright?"

This phone call just got weirder the more it moved along.

"Hang on, I'll check," Hannibal put the phone down, got out of bed, went out to the living room and looked in on the pilot sleeping on the couch. Outside a storm was crashing and making enough noise to wake the dead, but Murdock was sleeping like a baby with a big smile on his face because he _couldn't_ hear it. After the last time, Hannibal had insisted Murdock try earplugs to block out the thunder, and they seemed to be working. At face value, the Captain didn't seem to have a care in the world right now. Hannibal shuffled back into his bedroom, picked up the receiver and answered, "Yeah B.A., he's fine."

Over the phone he could hear the sergeant let out a large and shaky sigh of relief, but things still weren't making any sense.

"B.A., what's the matter?" Hannibal asked.

By now the other man was much calmer as he replied, "Nothing, Hannibal, I'm sorry I got you up."

Well, Hannibal could definitely mark this down as one of the _weirdest_ phone calls he ever got in his life. He hung the receiver back up and tried going back to sleep, but of course he couldn't, and instead he tried to make some sense out of what had just happened.

After a few minutes, the answer seemed to come to him. Hannibal picked up the clock, and he knew that B.A. was usually asleep long before now, so he must've had a nightmare. But about something happening to Murdock? Maybe Hannibal should've asked what it was about, but then again B.A. didn't sound like he was fully awake yet so maybe he was better off _not_ asking. Of course, if he were to ask in the morning when B.A. was coherent, then the Sergeant would probably deny everything. He couldn't deny the phone call, but he could sure enough deny being worried about Murdock, even though Hannibal knew that he had been. Well, it was a matter he'd simply have to wait and see about.

Just when Hannibal thought he was going to be able to get some sleep, he heard the floorboards creaking out in the living room. Now he _didn't_ want to hear that Murdock had a nightmare and couldn't sleep either. He got up, went out to the living room and saw the couch was unoccupied, Hannibal looked around and heard noises from the kitchen. He went in and saw Murdock with his head in the refrigerator, and when he pulled it back out and shut the door, he turned and yelped when he saw Hannibal.

"Murdock, what're you doing up?" Hannibal asked.

"I was hungry," Murdock answered innocently.

Hannibal noticed Murdock was hanging onto a jug of milk and he sighed and shook his head, maybe _he_ was starting to lose it.

Murdock went over to the table and poured a glass to go with a package of graham crackers he'd opened up, and as he sat down he looked up to the Colonel and asked him, "Want some?"

Hannibal managed a smile and replied, "No thanks, Murdock, I think I'm just going to go back to bed."

"Okay, goodnight," Murdock called after him as he dunked a cracker into his milk.

* * *

The next day it was still raining though the thunderstorm seemed to finally be over. Hannibal hadn't slept well, trying to figure out what had happened last night. He'd called B.A. and in the daytime the Sergeant was wide awake and coherent, and while Hannibal didn't outright say anything and only made allusions to the other night, as he thought, B.A. didn't seem to have any idea what he was talking about.

All the same, Hannibal suspected that B.A. knew more than he was letting onto, there was something between the lines that he couldn't put his finger on, something in the way B.A spoke to him. Hannibal decided to try something else, he inquired if B.A. or Face had any plans for the day, Face didn't, but B.A. told Hannibal he was working on something. Hannibal told him to bring whatever it was over to the apartment, since nobody had any plans for the day, he figured they could watch a ball game on TV. Once he got off the phone, he suggested to Murdock that he go home, get Jean and bring her over as well, maybe B.A.'s night terror was just rubbing off on him, but for some reason Hannibal decided it would be a good idea to get everybody together where he could keep an eye on them.

Murdock called Hannibal and asked if it was alright if they brought Amy along as well, apparently _she_ didn't have anything planned for the day either.

"Boy what a depressing bunch _we_ are," Hannibal said, "Sure, she can come too."

Face and B.A. were the first ones to arrive, and Hannibal saw what the 'something' was B.A. was working on, parts to an engine, and Hannibal didn't feel like asking _where_ it came from.

"So much for my cleaning deposit," he said as B.A. set up his makeshift shop on the living room floor.

"I've been telling you that for years," Face replied.

Almost immediately in the door behind them were Jean, Amy and Murdock, Jean seemed to be leading the bunch and right about now she reminded Hannibal of a cat annoyed at being woken up from its nap.

"Does the name "Rat Patrol" mean anything to you?" she asked him, half tired and half bitter.

"What?" he asked.

Jean pinched the bridge of her nose and simultaneously worked two pieces of sleep crust from the corners of her eyes at the same time and said, pointing to Murdock, "That's why I sent this thing over to your place last night, he wouldn't shut up about that old show "The Rat Patrol"."

"Is that back on TV?" Face asked.

"Now don't _you_ start too," Jean said.

"What's that?" Amy asked.

Hannibal looked to her and explained, "That was a TV show in the late 60s about a group of Allied soldiers in Africa during World War II."

"A 4-man commando unit, doing the unbelievable and the impossible," Jean sneered, "Gee, who does that remind me of?"

"I take it you weren't a fan of the show?" Amy asked.

"I don't think I ever made it through a whole episode without falling asleep," Jean said, "I didn't care about it last night and I don't care about it now, but it just so happens that some channel has picked it up and is running an all day marathon on TV today, so I imagine we'll be hearing plenty about it. A college man, a moonshine runner, a Brit and their fearless leader, go figure."

Murdock scratched his head and looked over at Face and Hannibal and the look was returned by them.

Face cleared his throat and asked, "Anybody want to get something for lunch?"

"We already did," Jean said and pointed to the bags Murdock had carried in, "No takeout, this time we just stopped in at a deli and picked up some stuff for sandwiches."

"Yeah, a Poor Boy submarine kit," Murdock said as he carried them into the kitchen.

"Sounds good," Hannibal said, "So long as it isn't…"

"Pizza," Jean cut him off.

And that was pretty much how they spent their day. B.A. worked on the floor with all his parts and tools spread out on newspapers from the last week, and Face, Murdock, Jean and Amy sat on the couch watching TV and Hannibal sat in his chair next to the couch. Periodically Hannibal looked through the corner of his eye and saw that B.A. was looking over towards Murdock, then turned his attention back to what he was doing before anybody noticed. It seemed that as long as the Sergeant could see Murdock, and see for his own eyes that the pilot was okay, then he was alright too.

Murdock found the channel running the "Rat Patrol" marathon, and before the first episode was even over, Hannibal looked over and saw that Jean had fallen asleep during it again, and had slumped against Murdock, who kept his arm around her and held her close to him. Hannibal turned his attention back to the screen and tried not to laugh, it seemed to him that usually in any marriage, it was the husband that fell asleep while watching TV.

* * *

The rain continued all day and well into the evening. After the ballgame ended, Amy announced she had to get home and hit her typewriter if she was going to have anything to turn in to work the next day. After the dinner table was cleared, B.A. parked his stuff on it, oil-covered newspapers and all, all the better for someone not to trip over it during the night trying to get to the bathroom.

Hannibal glanced at the label on the bottle of sleeping pills, and quickly closed the lid and slipped them back behind the bottle of castor oil he kept in the medicine chest, right where nobody would ever look. Sometimes when the sandman paid a visit, it was in the form of capsule powder stirred inconspicuously into an evening drink, and he'd gotten the feeling that everybody could use a dose of that tonight.

In his bedroom, Face and Jean were asleep in the bed, both of them knocked out before they even knew what had hit them, he'd taken the responsibility of getting them tucked in for the night. Jean he'd had to stuff a pillow under her legs because she was still sore from his training run and he'd found out she'd sustained some bruises during the obstacle course, and it became obvious every time she tried moving in her sleep. He made sure they were both settled in for the night before going out to the living room.

Ah, and here was another time that Hannibal wished he had a camera. Likewise, B.A. and Murdock were asleep alongside each other on the hide-a-bed. Hannibal had been sure to give Murdock his dosage first, justifying it with the obvious school of logic, an unconscious Murdock couldn't pester B.A., and wouldn't even remember the Sergeant spending the night on the couch with him. And it made the rest of his plan fall carefully into place.

"How about it, Sergeant?" he'd asked innocently enough, "Jean and Face are already asleep in the bedroom, and I can't see waking them to trade places out here, I do that and it'll be a regular slumber party, _none_ of us will get any sleep."

Had B.A. been able to read into what was really going on in the Colonel's mind? If he had, he hadn't let on. "Yeah, okay…so long as he don't wake up and bug me in the night." Then he'd thought of something, "What about you? Where you gonna sleep?"

"Tell you the truth, B.A., I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights, just can't get comfortable in that bed, so I think I'll just get one of the cots out of the closet tonight." It wasn't anything he hadn't already done about a hundred times in his life, not counting when it wasn't a luxury option.

B.A. nodded, "Alright."

He seemed indifferent but Hannibal could tell that it brought some relief to the Sergeant being able to bunk with Murdock and knowing that the Captain would be alright; _nothing_ could happen to him with his, as Murdock so affectionately put it, 'mudsucking blood brother' sleeping right next to him.

And lo and behold, here they were, Murdock blissfully unaware of anything and everything that had gone on, and B.A., who hadn't been given much chance to dwell on his fears from the other night because Hannibal had given him a Veronal nightcap when he wasn't looking. _He_ intended to get some sleep tonight and for that to be possible, everybody else had to as well, and they had come first. Before _he_ turned in for the night, he made his usual rounds checking on everybody and making sure they were all asleep, and one by one, as any good father, he kissed them all goodnight, and also couldn't resist petting the unruly hair on top of B.A.'s head and made a mental note to suggest in the morning that the sergeant get scheduled for another haircut soon. Then, he got a blanket out of the closet and made himself comfortable in his chair; he was always the first one up anyway so it wouldn't make any difference.

The apartment was quiet, and outside was rain, a nice, soft, pit-pattering rain tapping against the windows, instead of the raging downpours and howling winds and crashing thunder from the night before. Hopefully the storm inside had also died down for this night as well. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and turned his head to the side and slowly fell asleep too.


	15. Chapter 15: Brother's Keeper

15. Brother's Keeper

The plan had been that once Murdock returned with the chopper, he could fly Jean out of the war zone in the middle of the woods before the trucks showed up, and then the rest would stay to fight against the men they'd come to put out of commission in the first place. That had been the plan, but Hannibal's plans never worked like they were supposed to.

For whatever reason, Murdock never made it back with the chopper, and when Face saw the trucks come rolling in down the unpaved road, he knew they were in trouble. Jean had been fully willing to stay and assist in the fight since they were short a man, but they all knew the idea wasn't any good. These weren't the typical money grubbing dirty crooks with a little hired muscle behind them, that they went up against, these were real killers and they also had no qualms about killing women, _especially_ women; that was what had cemented the decision to get Jean out of there before the real trouble began. Unfortunately when the chopper hadn't come back, Face knew they had to switch to a different plan, and right before things started being blown up, Hannibal ordered him to get her out of there, and so that's what he had done. He grabbed her and tried getting her out of the line of fire.

_Why_ had Jean even come? What possessed Murdock to bring her? No, better question, what had possessed Hannibal to think it could even be a good idea? An extra set of hands to unload the equipment, he said, five could work faster than four, he said, Murdock could fly her back out of there before the first sign of any trouble, he said, and they were paying for it now.

They'd done well at first, they avoided all the Molotov cocktails going off around them and managed to dodge all the gunfire, but they hadn't been able to escape the flash grenades. When those went off, Face didn't have any idea if they were far enough away from B.A. and Hannibal that they hadn't been affected by the grenades detonating, he _hoped_ so, but he had no way of knowing. Face felt himself hit the ground but for five seconds couldn't hear anything and couldn't see anything; he went down hard and so had Jean, but as soon as he had regained any part of his senses, he pulled her to her feet and continued to run with her.

What a day, he'd known when he first got up that he wasn't feeling well, but he hadn't told the others because he knew how important this job was. And now, he could tell that the same could be said for Jean, she looked like he felt, and he wondered if her temperature was as high as his.

"Where's Murdock?" she asked him once they got out of the woods and could no longer hear the noise of the fight, "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," he told her, and he was having trouble even trying to think about it.

"We've got to go back and help," she told him.

"Oh no we don't," he replied as he grabbed her by the wrist, "We just got out of there and we're not going _back_ into it again…I've got to get you somewhere they can't find you and then _I'm_ going back."

"They need our help!" Jean told him.

Face shook his head, ooh boy did he feel sick. "Hannibal and B.A. can keep them at bay until Murdock and I get back," he told her.

"But you don't even know where Murdock is," she pointed out.

"Either I'll find him or he'll find his own way back," Face said, "He knows how to do that, he's like a big, scrawny homing pigeon."

How had he even managed to get them back into the city? He didn't know. And by the time they got back he couldn't even think that far ahead. How and why had they gotten to Hannibal's apartment? He didn't know that either. Maybe he'd been expecting for some crazier than normal reason, to find Murdock back here, but what would he be doing here? He wasn't there. Face should've known that, probably did know it but he couldn't remember now if he did or not. But right now it occurred to him that he had other problems to worry about.

Fever, or shock, which was the worst to succumb to? That was the question. He couldn't tell if they were suffering from one, the other, or both, but he knew how bad he was feeling and he knew Jean was feeling the same way, and even though it already hadn't been a particularly warm day, he felt like he was freezing and it was obvious from watching Jean that she was exactly the same. So, what to do? What to do? Face knew, even if he could find his way back to the woods, even if the fight was still going on, unfortunately he wouldn't be of any help to the others in the shape he was in, and he prayed they got out of it in one piece, and were able to forgive him for what happened today. But he just knew that he'd hardly even be able to make it back down to the first floor before collapsing, and as badly off as he was, he couldn't leave Jean alone either. Oh his head hurt…what to do? What to do?

He felt like he was running on an automatic pilot program, somehow he managed to fumble around the apartment until he found what he thought he was looking for. By that time his eyes hurt and his head was pounding, he collapsed against the bed and called out to the living room, "Jean, come in here…"

* * *

"You think Faceman woulda come back here?" B.A. asked Hannibal as the three men made their way up the stairs to his apartment.

"He might've, if he's not there he may have left a message for us," Hannibal said, "But I can't get him on the radio and he's not answering the phone in his car either."

"And I already checked out the surrounding area by air," Murdock added, "I didn't see them anywhere either."

"Which reminds me," Hannibal said, "Remind me again Murdock, what happened to you after you took off?"

"Well I went back to get the rest of the explosives, but as you know Faceman only managed to scam us a tiny bubble copter and there really wasn't enough room to take Jean back and pick them up as well, so I had to leave her behind while I got them. But when I got back, I saw that things were already blowing up, and I could only see you two."

"Well Jean wouldn't be hard to miss, she was wearing that Iron Cross jacket you gave her for Christmas," Hannibal said.

"I know…so I figured since you guys were outnumbered you might need some help, so I doubled around, landed, cracked open a case of the dynamite, got one of your cigars from the emergency box in the van, lit it, came back…"

"And started bombing the daylights out of those suckers," B.A. finished, sounding almost proud of the crazy pilot for what he'd done.

"Yep, but we still don't know what happened to Faceman and the Saint."

"Face knew if those guys had a chance they'd kill Jean as soon as they saw her, so he had to have gotten her out," Hannibal said, "The only question is to where?"

"And why didn't he come back?" B.A. asked.

"When we find him, we'll get the answer," Hannibal told the other two men.

They reached the apartment door and found it was not only unlocked but also open a crack, not a good sign. B.A. and Murdock drew their guns and Hannibal checked to see if anyone was immediately inside, nothing. He threw the door open and they jumped in and secured the place. The living room was clear, the next move was to the bedroom, and the three men stopped in their tracks and bumped into one another in the doorway.

Face and Jean were asleep in Hannibal's bed, all the covers pulled up high on both of them, including some extra heavy blankets that had come from the closet that was still open and looked like a tornado had been through it. Were it not for the hundred questions going through the men's minds, it almost looked touching, of course in Murdock's mind it still was in spite of all the questions. Face had Jean using his chest for a pillow and had his arms tightly around her. Both of them were breathing heavily, and when Hannibal pulled down the blankets to get a better look at them, he saw that Jean's whole body was covered in perspiration, and Face looked exactly the same.

"Jean," he said softly as he tried to wake her up, and in the process managed to pull her off the Lieutenant.

Jean forced her eyes open and asked, "What happened?"

"We ought to ask you that, are you alright?" Hannibal asked.

Jean looked back to Face and told them, "I think he's got a fever."

"Oh yeah?" Hannibal pulled off his glove and felt her forehead, "You feel like you just broke one. _What_ happened here?" he asked, halfway in his commanding officer's tone, "How'd you two get back here?"

Jean groaned, "It's no good asking me, Hannibal, I can't remember…"

"Jean," he grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her to look at him, "Have you been sick today?"

Jean looked down and replied tiredly, "I didn't say anything, I didn't want you to know…if I'm contagious then it's already too late for the rest of you, but I had my orders, you said 'we're going to need to move the supplies out to those woods as fast and as efficiently as possible', I said 'Do you need my help?' and you said if I could come and help get the stuff unloaded from the chopper, that that would help immensely, because you three had to be on the ground at that time. So I came, and I obeyed my orders…and then…" she raised a hand to her forehead and told Hannibal, "You…you told Face when Murdock didn't come back, you told him 'get her out of here, they'll shoot her', so he did…we couldn't find Murdock, and we couldn't find the chopper…" she balled her hand up and rubbed the sweat from her eyes, "He said he was going to get me to a safe place and then _he_ was coming back to help with the fight…but by the time we got here, he was too sick. The grenades…the grenades went off, and we couldn't hear, and we couldn't see…and when it all cleared we were both _so_ sick…"

"Alright, it's alright, Jean, just take it easy," Hannibal told her, "Murdock…"

"Faceman's still burning up, Hannibal, I don't think he broke his fever yet," Murdock said.

"Alright, we'll keep him covered up and see if we can't sweat it out," Hannibal told him, "In the meantime, take Jean in the bathroom and see if she needs any help freshening up."

"_No_ thank you," Jean replied, "I can do well for myself, _thank you_ very much."

* * *

Face felt his heart beating in his chest so hard he thought it might pop out at any minute. Then he realized that he was burning up, and he shot up in bed gasping for air. As he noticed his surroundings he looked around and asked frantically, "Jean? Jean?"

"She's alright," Hannibal said as he appeared in the doorway, completely taking the Lieutenant by surprise.

"Hannibal! What's going on? What's…what…"

"Shhhh," Hannibal said as he went over to the bed, "Just take it easy, everything's alright, the fight's over."

"Oh!" Face collapsed against the pillows in relief, "But how…"

"Murdock managed to make it back and he helped us flush out the rats," Hannibal explained. He put his hand to Face's forehead and asked him, "And how were _you_ this morning?"

"Uh…f-f-fine."

"Well for 'fine', you just cracked your 102 fever, Lieutenant," Hannibal told him, "Want to try again?"

Face shrugged helplessly and weakly, "I knew we had a mission, and I didn't feel _that_ sick."

"You two," Hannibal shook his head, "You have plenty more in common than either of you is willing to admit."

"You said…" Face closed his eyes against the beads of sweat burning them, "Jean's alright?"

"Yeah…apparently your little Eskimo trick worked," Hannibal said teasingly, "_How_ did you ever get back here though?

Face shook his head, "Don't know…can't remember…"

Hannibal took a rag and wiped the sweat off his face, "At ease, Lieutenant, all's well…as soon as Jean gets out of the shower you can get cleaned up…" he smiled and added, "You look like a steamed hot dog right about now."

"Gee, thanks a lot," Face flatly responded.

Hannibal chuckled. "You did good, Face, I'm proud of you."

Face was about asleep again, but managed to ask, "Yeah?"

"You took good care of Jean until we got back."

"Yeah well somebody had to do it," Face slurred as he started to fall back asleep, "If anything happened to her, Murdock would never forgive me…besides," he yawned as he turned over onto his side, "She's alright, when she wants to be."

"Funny," Jean said from where she stood in the doorway covered in Hannibal's robe and her short hair wet and sticking up like a patch of weeds, "I was just thinking the same thing about you."


	16. Chapter 16: Saturday Morning

16. Saturday Morning

Hannibal wasn't exactly sure _what_ the noise was that woke him up, whatever it was it was weird. He forced his eyes opened and noticed that the room was lighter than it usually was when he got up in the middle of the night. He pulled back the curtain and saw it was getting light out, meaning he must've actually slept through most of the night, something that seemed a rarity for him anymore. Feeling around on top of his nightstand, he found the clock and saw that it was 5 o' clock in the morning, _on_ his day off, the one day he was actually looking forward to sleeping in, a rare luxury for him. But, apparently, no such luck. Such was the price to be paid for having a certain Captain spend the night who would be damned before he missed his Saturday morning cartoons, even if he'd already seen the same cartoons 50 times.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a particularly loud yawn worked its way out of him. He swung his feet around and touched the floor, got up, and walked out into the living room where the only light was the bright illumination of the TV, which Murdock was planted on the floor in front of the couch watching, wide eyed and with a big smile on his face.

"Morning, Murdock," Hannibal said as he leaned against the doorframe for support as he found his equilibrium.

"Morning, Hannibal," Murdock said, adding as an afterthought, "Oh, I didn't get ya up did I?"

"No," Hannibal answered, "I just thought it'd be interesting to see what the world looks like _before_ the sun comes up."

His sarcasm was missed on the pilot, who appeared to be deeply engrossed in the reruns of "The Flintstones" that was showing right now. Hannibal smiled in spite of himself, it was impossible to be mad at Murdock, "Mind if I join you?"

"Oh sure," Murdock scooted over on the floor.

Hannibal was halfway to touching his backside on the carpeted floor when he got back up and asked Murdock, "You want some coffee?"

"No thanks," Murdock replied.

Hannibal nodded, "How about some breakfast?"

"Oh that'd be good," Murdock said, "Face picked up the groceries yesterday."

Yes, Hannibal remembered that. Face had come up with the short straw on picking up the groceries for the week, so he'd taken everybody's orders, which was something he'd done plenty of times before, and for the most part was very easy, except when Murdock insisted on talking for both he and his sock puppet of the month.

"Ooh Facey, while you're out, can you pick Socky and me up some Froot Loops?" he'd asked, flashing his big uncontainable smile, "I just love the red ones."

"Don't do that," B.A. warned Face.

"Why not?" Murdock asked.

"Cuz, fool, you _are_ what you eat, and you're loopy enough as it is," B.A. told him.

That left Murdock completely unfazed and he reminded Face three more times to get the cereal, which, Hannibal found out when he opened the cupboard, he did. Hannibal squinted as he looked at the box, he'd had these a few times in his life when they first came out, he didn't particularly remember liking them too much. He opened the box and took a whiff of the cereal…he shrugged to himself and poured two bowls anyway. Maybe they'd changed the flavor sometime over the years.

He came back in the living room with the two bowls and handed one to Murdock and then sat down beside him. By now the program had changed to the old 3 Stooges cartoons.

"What happened to the Flintstones?" Hannibal asked Murdock.

"It went off."

"Well I thought the Jetsons followed it." Good grief, how many times had they gone through this routine over the years?

"It used to, now it comes on first before the Flintstones," Murdock answered.

"Ah…" Hannibal shrugged to himself again, "So what comes on after this?"

"Uh, then it's Loony Tunes and Merry Melodies until about 7," Murdock answered, "And then it's Scooby Doo for a couple hours."

"Busy day planned, eh?" Hannibal asked.

"Eh, same old same old," Murdock answered.

Hannibal stirred his cereal and finally took a bite out of it. Nope, he didn't like it any better now than he had 20 years ago. Oh well, he'd eaten worse. Meanwhile he happened to glance over and saw Murdock was shoveling it in. Well, what could you expect from a man who'd eat shaving cream?

Murdock happened to glance over at him also and he suddenly slowed down eating and he said, as if testing the waters, "This is pretty good, isn't it, Hannibal?"

It took him a couple of seconds to realize Murdock wasn't talking about breakfast. It was _this_, the two of them here like this, this was their own private ritual, just the two of them when Murdock was able to visit at Hannibal's apartment on the mornings that he didn't have to clock in at the studio at the crack of dawn. It had started shortly after they first started liberating Murdock from the V.A., after the first few visits Hannibal had the bright idea it wouldn't do much more damage to return Murdock early the next morning than later the previous night so they could squeeze in a few more hours with the pilot before taking him back. Of all their residences, Hannibal's was mostly a free-for-all, he didn't mind Murdock getting up and doing things if he was still asleep, just so long as nothing wound up on fire or blown up or jammed down the garbage disposal. Unfortunately he hadn't been specific about keeping the volume down on the TV if Murdock insisted on any late-late or early-early programs, and that had been how this whole custom of theirs got started. It wasn't something routine enough that Murdock knew to look forward to it, just an added perk of spending the weekend with the Colonel whenever it was possible, and they often tried to make it possible.

"Yeah, it's good," Hannibal told him, "This is nice."

Murdock nodded hesitantly, and waited a few seconds before replying, "This is gonna change soon, isn't it?"

Hannibal looked over and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean when you move out of here," Murdock said, "And in with the others…we ain't gonna be able to do this anymore, will we?"

Tell the truth, Hannibal hadn't even thought about it.

"Well it'll be a little different," Hannibal told him, "But that'll be good too…then we'll all be together, that's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Murdock nodded, "Yeah, I do…I guess I just didn't think about it before like this."

"Well," Hannibal thought for a minute and told him, "We'll still be able to do this, like I said, it'll just be different…are B.A. and Face's bedrooms on the first floor or second?"

"Oh…all the bedrooms are upstairs," Murdock said.

"Well there you go," Hannibal said, "We'll have the TV in the living room all to ourselves early in the morning…and if not, there's always my room."

Murdock seemed to perk up at that idea. Then he got another serious look on his face and asked Hannibal, "And we'll still be able to do that…" he nodded as if he was trying to draw Hannibal's attention to something in the room, "After I'm married again?"

"Of course, that's not going to change," Hannibal told him.

Murdock's famous grin returned to him. "Good."

Hannibal returned his attention to the TV and found himself laughing with the pilot at the antics of the animated Stooges.

"They're really not as good as the _real_ ones, you know," Hannibal told him.

"Well, it's a different kind of humor," Murdock replied, "But it still works."

"Mm-hmm," Hannibal said as he got up and got a cigar to take the taste of that cereal out of his mouth.

"And, I find they're very educational," Murdock said.

Hannibal about swallowed his cigar, "And how do you figure that, Captain?"

"Take these episodes with that fellow, Bad-Man."

"Oh, the little boy who turns into a monster every time someone around him says the word 'bad'?" Now _how_ had he remembered that?

"Uh huh," Murdock answered, "See I figured early on when we met Jean that it was always important to stay on her 'good' side, and the safest way to do that was to just keep saying the word, like a mantra, 'good-good-good-good-good', extra insurance you know."

"Mm-hmm," Hannibal grunted as he lit his cigar, "Well, I suppose it doesn't hurt…do you still do that with her?"

"On occasion, like when she's asleep and doesn't know it," Murdock explained, "But I'm afraid she's getting the wrong idea by it subconsciously."

"Oh? Why's that?" Hannibal asked.

"Well the last time I did it, she rolled over to get her stomach rubbed," Murdock said.

Hannibal just about sent his cigar flying from laughing.


	17. Chapter 17: Nightcap

17. Nightcap

Hannibal turned off his TV, yawned and stretched. It had been a long day and a long night and he was looking forward to going to bed, for once _without_ somebody's extended company.

Then he heard someone knocking at the door.

Maybe _not_, he thought as he got up from his chair and went to the door. He opened it and was surprised to see that Jean was standing in the doorway, and if he thought _he_ was tired, she looked exhausted.

"Hello, Hannibal," she said with a slur as she started to sink to the floor.

"Jean, you okay?" he asked as he let her in.

"Sure I'm okay," she said as she sprung up again and walked in, "I'm fi-i-i-i-ine," she answered as she went around his couch a couple of times, "I'm also a bit drunk right now so you'll have to excuse me if I say something out of line."

Uh-oh, he didn't like the sound of this.

"How'd you get here?" he asked.

"I ha-iled a cab," Jean answered loudly as she tried making 'hailed' into a two-syllable word and gestured by sticking her arm out wide, "They dropped me off at the corner."

Hannibal was sure he was starting to lose his mind, and he realized this when it occurred to him he was following her around the couch, "Where's Murdock?"

"He an' Face went _OUT_," Jean told him, "They wen' out to have some drinks at a bar, so I stayed home and had a few myself."

Oh boy.

"How many did you have?" Hannibal asked.

"Mmmm…" Jean held up her fingers and tried counting on them, before dismissing the idea entirely and telling him, "A few."

Hannibal tried thinking, the _last_ time he remembered Jean getting drunk was the night they'd finalized their divorce, and even that wasn't as bad as this.

"Jean, is something the matter?" he decided to ask.

Jean shook her head, "No-no, nothing's wrong…I jus' decided to come by and see you, wanted to talk to you without that little loon hanging around eaves-dripping."

"Uh-huh," Hannibal said, "Okay, we'll talk, you start and I'll be right back," he told her as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Boy this' a nice place you got here, Hannibal," Jean said as she looked around at the minimally decorated living room, "Gonna be a shame to give this place up soon, ain't it?"

"Somehow I don't get the idea that's what you came here to talk to me about," he called out from the kitchen.

"That's right, somebody give that man a cigar," Jean looked and saw a whole box sitting on the coffee table, "Whoop, my mistake…you already got some."

"Jean if you don't mind my asking," Hannibal said as he came out of the kitchen with a glass of something, "Exactly _what_ did you drink tonight?"

"Uh…let's see," Jean said as she sat down on the coffee table, "A couple of beers, and then a little whiskey…and then a little gin…and then,"

"_Then_?" Hannibal repeated, "Kid, as many spirits as you got in there, you need an exorcist, not a home remedy."

Jean put her hand on the glass he was holding and pushed it down to see it better. Whatever it was looked like an off white, a light tan maybe, "What's this, an egg cream?"

"As I said, home remedy," he said as he raised the glass and passed it to her, "Drink this and come tomorrow you _shouldn't_ be sick as a dog."

Jean's grip wasn't very strong so she took the glass in both hands and looked at it. "Oh tha-a-a-anks, Hannibal…that's real nice of ya…hmmmm…" Jean put her lips against the glass, tilted her head back and tried to swallow it all at once, and about drowned herself in the process. "Not bad, tastes like milk...little Coke too maybe."

"Alright, Jean," Hannibal said once she managed to down the concoction, "Now how about you try telling me _why_ you came to see me tonight?"

He tried walking her over to the couch to get her to sit down, but luck wasn't on his side tonight, Jean all but stuck to him like glue.

"Hannibal, you' a good man, a 'real good man," Jean said as she patted him with one hand and clung to him with the other.

"Well I appreciate the compliment, kid, but I don't…"

"Hannibal, you can't ever die," Jean told him as she made eye contact with him, she was still drunk but underneath all her slurred words was dead seriousness, "You got me? You can't die…I can't take care of Murdock if that happens."

Okay, he was pretty sure they'd just gone down the rabbit hole to the 5th dimension now.

"What're you talking about, Jean?" he asked.

Jean lost her balance and put her arms around Hannibal, more to keep herself up but also as if she was trying to hug him as she explained, "He really loves you, Hannibal, they all do, you're their father…always will be…anything happens to you, they're all lost, I can't take care of them when that happens."

Oh boy. He wasn't sure where this one was going but he knew he couldn't deal with this with Jean standing on his feet.

"Come on, Jean," he told her, "Let's go sit down."

She wouldn't let go of him, he backed up towards his chair and sat down on it, and pulled her along with him and she wound up sprawled over the chair's arms, and his lap. Now, Jean seemed to be out of the conversational mood and just clung to Hannibal and rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Alright, Jean," he said in a borderline commanding tone, "Let's talk about this."

"I dunwanno," she murmured into his shirt.

"Jean," Hannibal reached his hand behind her and patted her on the back, "Did Murdock say something to you?"

"No-why?" she tiredly asked.

"Then what brought this up?" he asked her.

Jean picked her head up and opened her eyes to look at him and she told him, "Hannibal, you're old."

Okay, he was willing to let that one slide because he knew she was drunk.

"You're over 50, Murdock's almost 40, by the time we're in any position to have kids I'll be almost 30, we're all getting old and you're at the head of the line…you'll be the first to go, but you can't…Murdock won't survive if anything happens to you, none of them will, they' be lost without you, we all will."

Well now things were making a little more sense, but he still didn't like it. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him; he kept one arm around her and reached up with the other and stroked through her hair, and then pulled it back when he realized she hadn't washed it for a few days and it was greasy.

"Now look, Jean, I appreciate your concern for everybody, but I'm not going anywhere," he told her.

"Not _now_ but…"

"Hey look, you think I'd ever do something that could stop me from seeing the rest of you guys every day?" he asked.

Jean closed her eyes again so he wouldn't see what he already had. "Hannibal it can't be helped, one of these days something's gonna go wrong and you're not gonna come back from a mission."

He was half tempted to make a remark about what a depressing drunk she was, but he decided against it.

"Have you talked about this with Murdock or the others?" he asked.

Jean shook her head, "They don' know that I know anything…that I think about thin's like this."

"Well that's good," Hannibal told her, "We won't tell them, then."

Jean opened her eyes again, the light cast a glare off the tears that had built up, "Hannibal, I don't know what I'm gonna do when something happens to you…Murdock's gonna go all to pieces and somebody' gotta be there to pick them up, but I already know I ain't gonna be able to do it, I won't be able to pull myself together as it is…"

He rubbed her back and told her, "Don't think about it."

"I try not to," she told him, "I can't help it."

"I know you can't," he said, "But Jean, it's nothing you need to worry about now."

"I hope not," she replied tiredly as she rested her head on his shoulder again, "I won't be able to stand it either."

Hannibal wasn't sure how long he held onto her as she drunkenly cried and gave him a sopping wet shoulder, but evidently they'd reached a point they both fell asleep like that. This was something he only became aware of when he heard someone calling him, he opened his eyes and saw by the clock that it was after 12:30. He heard the voice and was able to identify it as Murdock, and only a few seconds later he saw the pilot appear in the doorway.

"Hannibal," he said with a note of relief in his tone, "Everything alright here?"

"Yeah, come on in, Captain," he said as he tried sitting up straighter, but found it hard to do with Jean still sprawled over his lap, her arms around his neck, and she currently sleeping off her drunken stupor.

"I got home and Jean wasn't there, I tried calling but there wasn't any answer, so I thought I'd come over," Murdock explained as he entered the apartment.

"Well you came to the right place," Hannibal told him.

Murdock's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight before him and he asked Hannibal, "Is she alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Hannibal answered, "Sad movie on TV tonight."

"What movie?"

Hannibal said the first thing that came to his mind, though he didn't have any idea where it came from, "Watership Down."

"Oh," the answer seemed to satisfy Murdock's curiosity.

"Hey look, Murdock," Hannibal said as he helped the Captain get Jean out of his lap, "Since you're already here and it is so late, why don't I just pull out the couch and you two can stay here and go back in the morning?"

"Well," Murdock thought about it, "I guess that'd make more sense than going home and waking her up just to put her back to bed….alright, I guess we can stay."

Murdock sat down with Jean in Hannibal's chair while he took the cushions off the couch and pulled out the hide-a-bed. Jean started to stir and while she didn't open her eyes, she mumbled something and started to lift her head. Murdock leaned over to her and crooned softly, "Goodnight, sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow, goodnight sweetheart, I will see you tomorrow…" and Jean lowered her head and slumped against him again.

Hannibal chuckled, "Not a bad system you have there, Captain."

"Yeah, that's the _goodnight_ song," Murdock replied humorously.

Hannibal helped him get Jean up and move her over to the bed. Murdock got himself comfortable for the night by removing his shoes, socks, jacket, and his belt, and when he climbed in alongside Jean he likewise removed her shoes, undid the top two buttons on her shirt and the top button on her jeans to give her a little breathing room in the night. Hannibal disappeared into the bedroom and said as he came out a minute later, "By the way, Murdock, the last time you stayed here for the night, you left something behind."

Murdock turned on his side to see what Hannibal was talking about and saw the Colonel holding a familiar teddy bear in his arms.

"Ah, Bogey!" Murdock squealed excitedly as he took the bear from Hannibal.

Hannibal stood back and watched amusedly as Murdock coddled over his teddy bear and spoke to it in baby talk gibberish and stroked through its soft fur. Then Murdock stopped and he looked over at Jean, and then down at the bear, and he reached over and tucked Bogey into her arms instead and Hannibal was able to pick up something Murdock whispered to the bear about protecting Jean from any bad dreams in the night, and he pulled the covers up for all three of them. Hannibal smiled at the sight before backing into his bedroom, but tonight he left the door open so he could see out into the living room.

* * *

The next morning when Hannibal got up, he looked out into the living room and saw that Murdock was awake and getting around, but Jean was still passed out in her side of the bed, and it didn't look like she'd be getting up anytime soon. After he got dressed, he went out and greeted the Captain, Murdock returned the greeting, and tried to wake Jean up, but no matter how much he shook her, she wouldn't budge.

"You two sleep alright?" Hannibal asked.

"I think so," Murdock told him, "I know I slept alright, and I never heard a sound out of Jean."

"Hmmm," Hannibal looked at her and then went into the kitchen to start the coffee.

When he came back a few minutes later with two cups of coffee, Murdock was still trying to get Jean to rise and shine, still with no luck.

"Here you go, Captain," Hannibal said as he handed one of the mugs to Murdock.

"Thanks, Hannibal."

Hannibal took a sip of his own coffee to make sure it wasn't too hot, then he slipped one hand behind Jean's head, propped it up, and pressed his mug against her mouth and forced her to swallow a sip of the coffee. Jean responded to the sudden hot liquid running down her throat by spitting it back in Hannibal's face, then she woke up.

"Good morning," he said innocently.

Jean let out a long yawn and it took her a few seconds to get her eyes all the way open and realize where she was. Then she looked around the room and asked him, "How'd I get here?"

"Wild night, kid," he told her, "You feeling alright?"

Jean rubbed one eye and said, "Yeah, I think so…"

"Good," Hannibal reached over and patted her backside when she turned over on her knees and told her, "Come on, up and at 'em."

Jean slowly got off the hide-a-bed and went into the bathroom to freshen up.

"Hey Murdock," Hannibal said, "Why don't you make a run down to the store and pick us up some donuts for breakfast?"

"Sure thing, Colonel," Murdock said as he put on his jacket, "Any particular kind?"

"None that look like feet," Hannibal told him.

"Right," Murdock replied as he headed for the door.

A couple minutes later, Jean came out of the bathroom a bit more oriented and she asked Hannibal, "Where's Murdock?"

"He just ran down to pick us up some breakfast," Hannibal explained as he folded up the couch and put everything back into place, "He'll be back in a minute."

"Oh, okay," Jean said and turned on her heel to head into the kitchen, then she stopped, turned back to him and told him, "Oh and by the way…"

"Yes?" Hannibal turned to her.

"Watership Down isn't a sad movie," Jean told him.

Hannibal blinked but otherwise didn't seem fazed. "I wish you'd tell Murdock that, he saw it once and cried all night."

They had a mutual laugh about it, Jean walked over to Hannibal, hugged him and groaned, "Just promise me we'll have you around for at least 30 more years."

"They'll have to murder me," he told her, "And you know I never make it easy for them to try"

"Good," she replied.


	18. Chapter 18: Fall-in, Fallout

18. Fall-in, Fallout

It had been Hannibal's bright idea that Jean and Murdock come over for the night. First there was the fact that he never asked _them_ over, if he did then he always invited Face and B.A. as well and they usually wound up with a full apartment for the night. Then there was also the fact that they seemed to be spending enough nights with him anyway, they might as well make it official.

Hannibal had retired to his room over 2 hours ago, but he still wasn't getting any sleep. He didn't know what movie Murdock was watching out there but he had heard a lot of explosions and people screaming and drippy, depressing music, and now it was all over, but now he couldn't sleep because he could hear the two occupants on the hide-a-bed talking amongst themselves. He tossed and turned and tried burying his head under the pillows, but he still couldn't block out the noise. Maybe inviting them over for the night had been a mistake.

He was _sure_ of that when he heard somebody knocking on his door.

"What is it?" he groaned as he emerged from under the pillows.

"Hannibal," it was Jean, "Can I come in? I can't sleep."

This was getting to be a regular running gag around here, can't sleep, then keep Hannibal up all night as well. He turned over and sat up in the bed and said, "Alright, come in." The door swung open and he asked Jean as she set foot in his room, "Now what's wrong?"

"I can't sleep, I've got a problem," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"This!" Jean pointed to Murdock who followed in behind her. She went over to the bed and crawled on top of the unoccupied side and told Hannibal, "First he keeps me up half the night with some stupid nuclear war movie on TV, and now he won't shut up about it. I need to get some sleep!" And with that she flopped face down on the spare pillows.

Hannibal was certainly nothing there if not sympathetic. But he was also less histrionic about it. He looked at the Captain who stood by the foot of the bed, so far without a single word in his defense, only a nervous look on his face and a set of hands that couldn't stop fiddling with one another. Hannibal leaned back against the pillows and sighed, then he patted the space between he and Jean and said, "Alright Murdock, get over here."

Still without a word, Murdock put his hands on the foot of the bed and crawled up the middle and turned around so he was seated beside Hannibal.

"Alright, Murdock," Hannibal said slowly, calmly, "Now what's going on?"

"Uh, well…" Murdock looked down at his hands that resumed trying to permanently conjoin with each other, "I was just curious…about uh…"

"Come on, Murdock, you usually don't have any trouble spitting out what's on your mind," Hannibal told him, "So what _is_ on it?"

"Well I was just wondering, Colonel…if we…if the country were to suddenly get bombed by the Soviets or the Russians or _whoever_ has the bombs and has their finger on the button…how…do you think anybody would be left alive? I mean would the _whole_ country be hit by it or do you think it would just be _part_ of it or just a certain percentage of the states…"

"Murdock," Hannibal cut him off, "Now you know we already had this conversation when you saw 'Fail-Safe' at the V.A. 10 years ago, you remember that?"

"Yeah I know but…it's a lot more to think about now, I mean back then it was just a matter of everybody being killed by one big attack…but _now_ people talk about the possibility of there being survivors…and I think surviving would be even worse than dying."

Hannibal didn't say anything, just reached over and patted Murdock comfortingly on the head and let the captain say what he needed to say.

"I mean why…why would anybody _want_ to survive? You know? I mean you think about it, the water is contaminated, can't drink it, can't grow anything with it, can't bathe in it, the soil is contaminated, can't grow anything in it, the food would be contaminated, can't eat it, the animals would be contaminated, can't eat them…and if the…electromagnetic pulse sets in, there's no electricity, nothing works, if it's cold weather you'd freeze to death because you have no thermostat and you can't burn wood because it just releases the radioactive particles back into the air…and then, this is all considering that you manage to stay somewhere until the radiation level drops, if you don't, you probably die relatively quickly, but if you do, when you come out there's nothing to eat or drink, no way to stay warm in cold weather or to get cool in hot weather…and if you come out _before_ the radiation level drops, then you get the radiation poisoning and then…"

Hannibal didn't want to listen to anymore. He put his arm around Murdock and pulled the captain over to him and told him, "It's alright, Murdock, calm down, that's not going to happen."

"But what if it does?" Murdock asked, "Why do people want to _survive_ just to live in a world like that? I mean it's not like when they dropped the atomic bombs on Japan, they did a lot of damage but they're nothing compared to what's been set to go off now."

"I know," Hannibal told him soothingly as he held the pilot and rubbed his back, "But Murdock, it's not going to happen." Murdock opened his mouth to reply but Hannibal cut him off, "Now I already explained this to you the last time, remember?" He felt Murdock nod against him, "Alright…I told you before, _nobody_ is going to bomb _anybody_, because all the officials who have the power to do so _know_ that if they do that, they would kill off everybody, including themselves. And I don't care _how_ poorly international relations are doing, _nobody_ is going to be so spiteful that they'd be willing to kill off everyone in their own country just to say they attacked first. Everybody is at a stalemate position right now, _nobody_ can press the button without the other side doing the same, and the two attacks would cancel each other out and wipe out all of civilization…now, I won't say that letting things get this far that they _have_ that destructing capacity was the right thing to do, but now that they're here, everybody knows where they stand and it's all in the same spot. I don't think that they were built to be used, only as insurance to guarantee nobody else can use theirs either, so in a sense they exist to ensure _we_ exist. Now does that make sense?"

"I guess so," Murdock replied.

"Murdock, you know as well as I do how near impossible it is anymore to have somebody who doesn't have a family, can you really see these men in charge of firing off the missiles, taking a look at their families: their children, their parents, their wives, their brothers, and deciding that they don't account for anything and that they are just as expendable as everyone else in the world?"

"But Hannibal, they're…"

"I know, I know, they most likely already have their fallout bunkers ready to go, but they _know_ what kind of world they would be reemerging to…and what kind of a world would that be for children to grow up in, for couples to spend their golden years in? As you said, there wouldn't be any point in surviving, and they know that better than the rest of us…" he felt Murdock lean against him and he reached down and stroked through the Captain's hair as he continued to speak, "Now just think about all the things that would no longer exist if this happened, all the little things in everyday life that people take for granted. No more green grass, no more flowers, no more gardens, no more birds singing in the morning, no more walking in the rain, no more fresh drinking water, no more freshly grown strawberries or corn on the cob, no more butterflies or hummingbirds or fireflies to watch, no more ballgames, no more Halloween or the 4th of July, no more camping trips or beach vacations, no more neighbors, no more children to play with, can you really see the men responsible depriving their own children of those things for the rest of their lives, and dramatically shortening them in the very process?"

Murdock shook his head after he thought about it, "No."

"Well there you go," Hannibal told him, "A lot more thought goes into these kinds of decisions than most people are willing to admit."

Murdock nodded hesitantly and said, "I guess you're right."

Hannibal patted him on the head and said, "You feel better, now?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Murdock answered.

"Alright."

Murdock moved and tried to rouse Jean from the other side of the bed but she seemed to be flat out cold.

"Jean," he said as he shook her.

"Don't wake her up now, let her sleep," Hannibal told him, "Here, we'll see if we can't get the covers out from under her and then we can all get some sleep tonight."

With a little work they got the covers loose and Murdock was able to get under them as well.

"Goodnight, Hannibal," he said as he turned on his side and fell asleep.

"Goodnight, Murdock," Hannibal replied, though he wasn't as close to nodding off yet as the captain was.

A few minutes passed, and when Murdock truly seemed to be asleep, Jean opened her eyes, turned on her side to face Hannibal and she told him, "You're good."

"Thanks," he replied as he settled back against his pillows and pulled the covers up, "Jean, you ever think about it?"

"Not really," she shook her head, "If the day comes, I plan to be right in the middle of the blast, there's _nothing_ worth walking away from that one for."

Hannibal nodded, "You tell him that?"

"I wasn't sure if I should or not, I know that you have to accept death as an ever-present possibility in your day-to-day lives, but this is something different altogether," Jean said, "But I think you made a lot of good points explaining it to him."

"Thanks," Hannibal replied, "I just hope I'm right."


	19. Chapter 19: Flat Tops

19. Flat Tops

Face glanced into the living room and saw Murdock hunched forward on the couch with his face stuck in permanent scowl/pout mode. He ducked back into the kitchen and asked Hannibal, "How long's he been like this?"

"Ever since we got back," Hannibal told him, "When he realized."

They had just finished a new job for a new set of clients earlier that morning _and_ once again managed to avoid Decker and slip out of his slimy grasps at the last minute. They came away $30,000 richer now with a promise of $30,000 more later in installments. On the surface everything seemed good and more to Face like cause for a celebration, but the Captain had come back from the mission feeling downer than a cat in a sewer grate.

"Aw geez, you think he's going to snap out of it?" Face asked.

Hannibal shrugged, "I don't know."

Face tried to think, "You think we should try talking to him?"

"Probably wouldn't hurt, but I don't know if it'll help either," Hannibal said.

"Well we gotta do _something_," Face said, "Look at him, Hannibal, he looks like Billy just died."

"We'll try," Hannibal said.

They went out into the living room and addressed the pilot who was hunched so far over he about slid right off the couch.

"Come on, Murdock, you're not still upset, are you?" Face asked.

Murdock just stared straight ahead at the television set that wasn't even turned on. Face sat down beside him and said, "Come on, Murdock, how often does it happen that we get thousands of screaming fans grabbing at us and about get killed in the excitement? Oh sure, they _thought_ that we were with the rock band because in our rush to escape Decker and the MPs we just happened to be running out the same door they were coming out of, but still, for a few minutes we were celebrities…you can't say you didn't get a rush out of that, all the girls screaming, grabbing at you, trying to pull you back."

"But they took my _cap_!" Murdock finally spoke up, his voice full of despair at the fact.

"I know, Murdock.

"_They-took-my-cap_!" Murdock repeated, emphasizing every word of it, "The same cap that I've worn every day for 10 years, that is my _own_ personal cap, with 10 years of my dandruff, sweat and oil in it, and all the discarded chewing gum when there wasn't a table to put it under, and they took it from me!"

Hannibal sat down on the other side of Murdock and patted the Captain on the back, "We know, Murdock, unfortunately it couldn't be helped."

"I know, but…"

Face thought of something, "What about your Captain Bellybuster hat, couldn't you wear that in the meantime?"

"Aw but that's over at Jean's house, I can't go over there to get it, I don't want to go outside looking like this, I feel naked," Murdock groaned.

So did Face, but for a different reason, there was one mental image he didn't need.

"What if Face went over and got it for you?" Hannibal suggested.

Murdock's face lit up and he turned to the Lieutenant, "Would you do that for me, Face?"

He managed a small smile, "Sure, Murdock, why not?"

"Oh thank you, Facey, I really appreciate it," Murdock lunged over and hugged him.

"Don't mention it, buddy," Face replied as he pulled himself away from the octo-Murdock.

"You see, Murdock?" Hannibal asked once it was just the two of the in the apartment, "All's well."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Murdock replied, feeling a little down again.

The phone rang and Hannibal got up to answer it.

"Hello…B.A., what's going on?" Hannibal rolled his eyes, "B.A., what did you do? You're where? …Alright, alright, I've be over in a minute." He hung up the phone, sighed and told Murdock, "I've got to go out for a little while, Captain, I'll be back in a bit."

"Alright, I'll be here," Murdock told him, "Holding the couch down."

* * *

Half an hour after Hannibal left the apartment, Face came into the apartment holding something behind his back. Murdock didn't pay him much mind when he stepped in, so Face pushed the door shut with his foot and walked over to the couch and in one quick move, put a blue cap on the pilot's head.

"Surprise, Murdock!" he said.

Murdock looked up as if trying to see what had been put on him. That didn't work so he reached up and pulled it off and looked at it, it was a brand new cap, but otherwise identical to his own. Murdock looked at Face, wordlessly questioning where it came from.

Face explained, "I thought maybe we could get you a new one to break in, I found it in a store on my way back…and let me tell you it's hard to find a _plain_ cap anymore, they've all got some kind of logo or trademark on them, _that_ is a rare find, my friend."

Murdock looked the cap inside and out and smiled, and hugged his best friend.

"It'll take a little while to add your own personal touch to it," Face told him, "But I figure in a few days you'll have it broken in."

"Oh thank you, Face, I love it," Murdock said as he adjusted it and tried it on, "How does it look?"

Face did a double take, "It looks like your old one, there's no difference."

"Oh I doubt that," Murdock got up and went to look in the mirror, "It doesn't have 10 years' of rain and dirt and sun and other element related wear to it, but it will in time…ooh, thank you, Faceman, it's perfect!"

"Glad you like it," Face said, honestly surprised that Murdock was so excited about his gift.

Hannibal's voice could be heard coming towards the door and Murdock turned to show Hannibal his new cap when he came in, but as the door opened Murdock felt the smile disappear from his face as he saw Jean come in behind Hannibal with both arms folded over the top of her head. Without a word to anybody she made a beeline to the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

"What happened?" Face asked.

"Right after you left, I got a call from B.A.," Hannibal explained, "He said that Jean had got into some kind of trouble but he wasn't very detailed about it on the phone. So I went down to see what he was talking about. It appears that earlier today Jean was jumped by a few goons in a new street gang who prove their initiation by ambushing young women and scalping them."

"You mean like the Indians?" Murdock asked.

"Well not _quite_," Hannibal said, "It's a calling card that the whole world can see, a bit more personal than _other_ gang methods of initiation."

"Depending on your definition of _personal_," Face replied.

"She alright?" Murdock asked.

"Yeah, they got her good though, apparently the way this initiation works is one or two members pin the victim down and the other takes out a handheld set of electric clippers and buzzes them down to the scalp, got a few chunks of her hair out that way. Jean got her scalp scraped in a couple places but other than that she's alright."

"Then why is she hiding in the bathroom?" Face asked.

"Well, alright _physically_, I didn't say her self esteem was fairing well."

"How bad is it?" Murdock asked.

"Well it'll grow back, but right now it looks worse than the time you tried giving her a mohawk," Hannibal explained.

"That bad, huh?" Murdock replied.

"What happened to the guys that attacked her?" Face asked.

"Well apparently between all of them, enough noise was made that B.A. found them in the middle of the process, need I go on?"

"I guess not," Face answered.

"Hannibal, you mind if I try talking to her, alone?" Murdock asked.

"Sure, come on, Face, let's get out of here," Hannibal told the Lieutenant.

Face didn't need to be told twice, he followed Hannibal out, leaving Murdock alone in the living room. He went over to the bathroom door, put his ear against it and tapped on it with two of his fingernails.

"Come on out of there, Jean."

"Forget it," she replied, "I'm not coming out."

"Hm, must be more comfortable in there than I thought," Murdock said half to himself, "Jean, now come on out of there, it can't be that bad."

"You want a bet?" Jean asked.

"Come on, Jean, how much worse can it be the time _I_ gave you a haircut?" he asked.

That seemed to do it. The bathroom door swung open and Jean emerged in what little splendor she had left. Him being a few inches taller than she was, Murdock had a very good view of the butcher job she'd had done to her, little chunks buzzed clear down to the scalp, making the top of her head look a bit like a checker board.

"Okay, so it _can_ be that bad," Murdock said.

"That does it," Jean said, "I'm going back to stunts, at least there I'm not gonna have to answer _as_ many questions about what the hell happened to me."

"Come on, hon," Murdock said as he gave her a small push over to the couch to sit down.

"Of course work isn't the real problem," Jean said, "I can always call in and tell them I'm on bedrest for a couple weeks…the problem's going to be going out _at all_, people _looking_ at me…them _knowing_ isn't even going to be the problem, it's the smart alecks who _don't_ know. Of course I don't know which _is_ going to be worse, the ones who _don't_ know or the ones who _do_. Either way I gotta have people staring at me like something that rode in with the circus sideshow…you'd think by now I'd be used to that."

Murdock carefully reached a hand up and felt her hair, and asked her, "How long will it take to grow this length again?"

"I don't know, I never had it buzzed down to bare bones before," Jean said, "I guess somewhere between a couple weeks and a month."

"Well…that won't be so long," he told her, "Then you can get it cut again to even it all out."

However Jean wasn't seeing the optimism in any of this. Murdock looked at the scowl on her face and that crosshairs look in her eyes, targeted at something straight ahead and down towards the floor. Murdock looked at her about as intensely as she was looking at the floor, and then the idea came to him; he reached up, grabbed his cap by the bill, pulled it off his own head and reached over and pulled it down on Jean's. Jean's eyes widened and her whole body sat up straighter as she reached up to feel what was put on her, and she turned and looked at him in surprise and puzzlement.

"That ought to do until it grows back," he said.

Jean reached up and felt the cap and smiled in spite of herself.

"Thanks, Murdock," she told him.

He leaned over and kissed her and replied, "Anytime, darling, anytime."


	20. Chapter 20: Twins

20. Twins

The last time B.A. had taken lead in a firefight, they'd wound up in Bad Rock and that was how they had met Maggie Sullivan; that was also how he and Murdock came to be, as the pilot alleged, 'blood brothers', something Murdock never let B.A. live down, and something B.A. never failed to deny.

Last time Maggie had had to collect a .50 caliber slug out of his leg, tie off an artery, and close him up with 60 stitches. Fortunately this hadn't been as serious as that. But it had _still_ been serious. This time the caliber of the round in him was .30, it had been in a far easier place to remove without him losing _as_ much blood, they'd found a doctor _much_ closer than Bad Rock, and B.A. hadn't needed a transfusion, but he'd still needed, as the doctor saw fit anyway, some medication for the pain during recovery. Given the mood B.A. had been in from the moment he went down, Hannibal saw fit to start his medication regiment _immediately_ upon leaving the doctor's office. It not only made the pain lessen or disappear for a while, but it also made B.A. tune out of reality and consciousness for a bit; _just_ what Hannibal decided they needed to get the Sergeant back home.

"Hannibal, I still think it would've been better to just take him back to the house," Face told Hannibal, "Instead of bringing him back here and hauling him up 3 flights of stairs.'

"Maybe, but he knows this place better," Hannibal reminded the Lieutenant, "That may work in our favor when he wakes up after the drugs stop working."

"Hannibal, it'd take a miracle to work anything in our favor when he wakes up," Face replied.

Hannibal just shrugged and said, "At least we didn't put him on a plane, that's the part he really hates."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," Face said.

Hannibal's already short temper snapped and he asked bitterly, "Where's Murdock? He should've been here by now."

"I called the house," Face told him as he sat down, "No answer, maybe they're on the way."

"Murdock would've been here sooner than this, we told him about B.A. as soon as it happened."

"You didn't tell him we were bringing B.A. back here though, maybe he went to the house," Face thought.

"Call there and see."

On one hand, Face was just relieved that this time, B.A. couldn't blame _him_ for his getting shot…but on the other hand, that more likely meant that this time the heat was going to fall to Murdock. He was supposed to be watching B.A.'s back during the stakeout but at the last minute the Captain had disappeared and a minute later they'd heard him screaming. B.A. had turned around when he heard the screams and that was when he'd gotten shot. Murdock had been so busy watching B.A. that he hadn't noticed the thinly veiled trap laid right in front of him. He'd stepped right into a bear trap, and Hannibal and Face both risked blowing their covers to get to him and get him out. Fortunately for the pilot, the trap was an old one and the teeth on it were partially dull and for no longer than he was stuck in it, it just broke the skin on his leg, at worst he'd need a tetanus shot. But as soon as they got him loose, they heard the gunfire and scrambled back to help the Sergeant, who was down for the count and bleeding out.

Of course Face knew Murdock couldn't _really_ be blamed, in hindsight how was he to know somebody had set a bear trap when they'd already been over those woods before? But the fact remained that Hannibal seemed to need someone to take it out on right now and even if he didn't, no doubt when B.A. woke up he _would_.

They could hear the Sergeant starting to breathe harder, meaning that the drugs were wearing off.

"Hannibal," B.A. said, weaker than usual as he tried opening his eyes, "Hannibal…"

"It's alright, B.A., we're here," Hannibal said as they went over to the pulled out couch the Sergeant was resting on, "And I got your pills, the doctor said…"

"Murdock, where's Murdock?" B.A. asked, still not able to get his eyes open.

Face and Hannibal looked at each other, Face cleared his throat and said, "B.A., he's not with us."

"Something happened to him?" B.A. asked weakly, "They got him?"

"No, he got out with us, he's alright," Hannibal told him.

B.A. let out a sharp exhale and murmured, "Good."

Face looked to Hannibal again, who just shrugged and said, looking at the bottle, "Must be strong stuff they gave him."

"He's sweating bullets, oop, bad joke," Face said.

"Natural," Hannibal replied as they saw B.A. sink back into unconsciousness, "But I'd still feel better if we knew where Murdock was."

"What happened to him once we got out of there anyway?" Face asked.

"Well the doctor said he just had some minor scrapes and scratches, I wanted him out of there incase the MPs would come, but I still didn't want him driving, so I called Jean to come and pick him up since we had to stay longer while B.A. got patched up," Hannibal explained.

Face nodded uncertainly, "The whole thing just blurs together anymore when I think of it."

The phone rang. Hannibal answered it, checked his watch, grumbled a single syllable response, and hung it up.

"Who was that?" Face asked.

"Jean said she and Murdock are going to be here in five minutes," Hannibal said.

Six minutes later there was a knock at the door. Face answered it and Jean stepped in, Face noticed she was still wearing Murdock's cap to cover her hair while it was still in the process of growing back.

"You're a minute late," Hannibal told her nonchalantly.

Jean was unfazed, "Bite my head off."

"I might at that," he replied, "I missed breakfast today. _Where_ is Murdock?"

"He's coming," Jean nodded to B.A. and asked, "Is it safe to come in?"

"Sure, he's unconscious for the moment," Hannibal explained, "What's keeping Murdock?"

"Oh well, we would've been here sooner except he wanted to get something for B.A.," Jean said as she covered her mouth with her fist and let out a dry cough.

"What could he possibly want to pick up?" Face asked.

They heard Murdock groaning as his footsteps came down the hall. In the doorway appeared a giant black teddy bear, then the others realized that Murdock was carrying it over his head, or trying to, but with its massive size and wide body, it covered the entire top half of his body.

"That explains it," Hannibal said, seemingly unfazed. Murdock all but dropped the bear and now that they could see his face, saw that he too was broken out in sweat, from carrying it up three stories. "Very nice, Murdock, where'd you find it?"

"Don't ask," Jean said, "You know what one that size cost?"

"Don't start," Murdock told her.

"Take a closer look," Jean told Hannibal and Face, "Notice anything odd?"

They took another look at the bear, and both were surprised, and amused. Murdock had customized the bear to match the mudsucker nicely by teasing a tuft of fur on top of its head to resemble a mohawk, clipping two feather earrings on its giant ears, and by wrapping costume gold chains around its neck and arms.

"Identical twins," Face managed to restrain himself from laughing.

"That's what I said," Jean told him.

"Has he said anything yet?" Murdock asked.

"He asked about you," Face said.

"He did?" Murdock seemed surprised.

"The drugs make him crazy," Jean said over a cough.

"Really?" Murdock sounded hopeful.

"They must to some extent," Hannibal said, "I'd swear during the trip back he mentioned Billy a couple of times."

Murdock turned to the sleeping mudsucker and grinned, "Aww you big mudsucker you, I _knew_ you believed."

"Of course he does," Jean told him, "He just never admits it."

Hannibal looked to her and asked, "Jean, are you staying?"

"No, I know when I'm not wanted," she said, her tone making it clear she was trying to be sarcastic and falling flat.

"Jean," Murdock turned to her.

"It's alright," she said, "I've gotta get back before my mom calls, the firefight you guys were in made the news all the way back to the east coast, I gotta get over there to let her know hat happened. I'll show myself out."

"Okay, bye," Face waved her off a bit enthusiastically.

"Thanks for helping, kid," Hannibal told her.

"Yeah," she replied on her way out the door.

"Well she's short today," Face said.

"She just don't want B.A. catching whatever she got," Murdock explained.

"What _has_ she got?" Hannibal asked.

"I don't know, but she got a real bad cough the last couple days," Murdock said as he hoisted the teddy bear up and tried carrying it over to the hide-a-bed, "You know how they say when kids have the croup, it sounds like a baby seal barking?"

"Yeah?" Face said.

"Well whatever she got, sounds like a walrus trying to hack up a lung," Murdock explained as he dropped the bear alongside the sleeping sergeant.

"Ah," Face said in his usual less-than-enthusiastic tone, "How ladylike."

Murdock ignored him and said to Hannibal, "She says it's 'cuz she was a premature baby, so her lungs never fully developed."

"Funny, you'd never guess that when she runs any of Hannibal's torture chamber obstacle courses," Face commented.

Murdock shook his head, "No, it don't affect anything like that, it's just when she gets sick she gets it worse than others."

"So that's why she's been keeping her distance from us the last few days," Hannibal said.

"And here I thought we'd gotten lucky and she just didn't want to see us again," Face cynically replied.

Murdock ignored his comment.

"You're sure she'll be alright alone?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh sure, she'll be fine," Murdock answered, "Anybody tries breaking in she can just cough on them. She'll be alright until I get back, I can't leave my mudsucking blood brother in his time of need." As he spoke, he stayed focused on B.A., who was still blissfully unconscious.

Murdock reached a hand out and patted the larger man's forehead and asked him, "You doing alright you big mudsucker, you?"

Aside from the steady breathing, there was no response from the Sergeant. Murdock looked up to Hannibal and asked him, "He's gonna be alright, isn't he, Colonel?"

"Of course he will, Murdock," Hannibal told him, "It's just going to take a while."

* * *

B.A. felt a kink in his neck from his head being turned to the side. He opened his eyes slowly to find out where he was, and he froze at what he saw.

"Hannibal," he said, but it only came out in a whispered hiss.

But it was loud enough for the Colonel to hear him. By now it was several hours later and Face and Murdock had fallen asleep on the other furniture in the living room. Hannibal went over to the couch and almost laughed as he saw B.A. turned on his side, his eyes wide as he stared at the giant teddy bear staring back at him.

"How're you feeling, Sergeant?" Hannibal asked.

He took it as a good sign that B.A. was too focused on the stuffed animal on the other side of the bed to even notice any pain he was feeling.

"Hannibal," B.A. said, a little louder this time, "_What_ is _that_? Where'd it come from?"

"That?" Hannibal repeated, "That is a little get-well present from the Captain."

"A what?"

"You heard me," Hannibal said, "Murdock picked it up for you and brought it all the way over, about threw his back out getting it up here. What do you think?"

B.A. crinkled up his nose as he looked the thing up and down suspiciously.

"Well?" Hannibal asked, clearly amused that it was taking the Sergeant so long to say something.

B.A. closed his eyes again, turned his head to the front and said, "I like it." He worked his eyes open again and told Hannibal as he scowled up at the Colonel, "But don't tell the crazy fool I said that."

Hannibal chuckled and replied, "As usual, Sergeant, your secrets are safe with me."


	21. Chapter 21: Screaming in the Bathtub II

21. Screaming in the Bathtub II

Face let out a collective sigh of relief and content as he felt the hot water soak against his skin. Hannibal had insisted on running them through a refresher training course, a sort of miniature obstacle course, and though it hadn't been near the trouble of one of his full-scale outdoors torture chambers, the Lieutenant was still relieved to have the whole ordeal done and behind him. And now he could just relax and soak in the tub and take comfort in the fact that he would not have to do this again _any_ time soon.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, interrupting his thoughts. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's me, Facey," Murdock's voice rang through from the other side of the door, "Can I come in?"

Leave it to Murdock. And of course, it would make too much sense to ask if whatever Murdock wanted could wait. Fortunately, for as much as Face prized his privacy, he was currently buried under 10 million tiny bubbles on the surface of the water.

"Yeah sure, Murdock, come on in," Face said.

The door swung open and Murdock came in, "Hi, Face."

Some days more than others required more will power to put up with the pilot, and right now this was feeling like one of those 'more' days.

"What is it, Murdock?" Face asked.

"Hannibal was wondering if you remembered to pick up a new package of cigars for him," Murdock said.

"Oh yeah, I left them in the glove compartment of the 'Vette," Face answered.

"Ah, okay," Murdock said, and turned around and left the bathroom.

Well, Face thought, _that_ was easy.

Apparently a little _too_ easy because a few minutes later he could hear Murdock coming up the stairs again.

"Hey Faceman…"

_Boy_ he was glad for the bubbles right about now. "What is it now, Murdock?"

"Have you seen Billy?"

"Murdock," even Face had limits to his patience, "Where would he be that I'd see him? He's not in the tub with me."

"Oh I know that, I was just wondering if maybe you'd seen him earlier," Murdock said.

"Well I haven't," Face said, and then he got an idea. There wasn't any way he'd be able to do this with Hannibal or B.A., but he decided he was going to get a little revenge for being run ragged up and down this building a few weeks back.

"Now that I think of it, Murdock," Face said, "I think he was down on the second floor earlier. Maybe you better go check."

"That's a good idea, thanks, Face," Murdock spun on his heel and was out the door again.

As Face sank lower into the water, he laughed to himself, he hoped that for some reason Murdock would come back up in a few minutes, he could have a lot of fun with this.

* * *

"Billy!" Murdock whistled as he went from one end of the second floor hall to the other, looking for his dog.

"Murdock!" Jean's voice called up the stairs, "What're you doing?"

He turned and saw her coming up the stairs and he told her, "I'm looking for Billy."

"Well you're looking in the wrong place," she told him, "He's downstairs and outside at the corner fire plug."

"Oh, thanks!" Murdock ran past her and zipped down the stairs, out the front doors, and down to the corner.

When he came back a minute later carrying Billy in his arms, he ran into Hannibal who had just arrived at the building.

"Oh hey, Murdock," he said, "I'm taking everybody's orders for lunch, I already heard from B.A., what're you and Face in the mood for?"

"Uh, I'll go ask," Murdock said as he put Billy down and went inside.

Jean had just started going down the stairs when she saw Murdock rushing up them, so she jumped out of the way and watched as he sped up to the third floor again.

"Hey Face!" Murdock said as he barged into the bathroom again, "Hannibal wants to know what you're in the mood for for lunch?"

"Oh…I don't know, you decide," Face said.

"Alright," Murdock said, "How about some Captain Bellybuster burgers?"

"Sounds good," Face said, and waited until Murdock was _just_ out the door to call him back and added, "Tell him to make sure mine has cheese, pickles, onions, mustard and mayonnaise on the bun, a lot of ketchup, and I want the bun toasted, and _no_ sesame seeds."

Murdock looked from side to side as if he was trying to contemplate what was just said, but only remarked, "Alright," and went down the stairs again.

He had left the door open and Jean took that as a perfect opportunity to step in.

"Now what do _you_ want?" Face asked.

She ignored his question and said only, "You've been in here quite a while, why don't you just get out?"

"I'm afraid to," Face told her, "There's no telling when he's going to come zipping _back_ in here. And _speaking_ of which."

"What?" she asked.

He gestured to the door and told her, "Get out of here."

"Oh come on," Jean replied dismissively as she sat on the edge of the tub, "I'm a grown woman."

"That remains to be proven," Face told her, and repeated through clenched teeth, "_Get_ out of here."

* * *

"Hey Face," Murdock said as he came in, "Hannibal went to pick up the burgers and I made sure that he got your order right down to the last detail."

"Oh great," Face replied, rolling his eyes, "Murdock, do you mind?"

"Oh not at all, nothing I haven't seen before," Murdock said as he sat down on the edge of the tub.

Face clenched his teeth together behind a closed mouth and managed to resist the urge to strangle Murdock.

"I _mean_," he said, "Would you mind leaving?"

"Oh, why didn't you say so?" Murdock asked as he got up.

"Silly me, I thought I already had," Face sarcastically replied.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going," Murdock said as he moved for the door.

He had just opened the door when B.A. stepped in, "Hey you crazy fool, I knew I'd find you sooner or later."

"I didn't know you were looking for me," Murdock replied coyly.

"I'm _not_, except to give you a message," B.A. stuck his fist in front of Murdock's face and told him, "The next time you take my tools without asking I'm going to show you what your nose looks like from the inside out."

Murdock took a step back and clamped both hands over his nose.

"That does it!" Face snapped, "Everybody get out of here!" When the two men turned and looked at him, he picked up the soap dish and got ready to hurl it at them, "Out, out, OUT!"

They both stepped out and closed the door just in time to hear the soap dish hit it.

"What's his problem?" B.A. asked.

Murdock shrugged, "Who knows? With Faceman, could be anything."

On the other side of the bathroom door it sounded like a window shade was being rolled up and then they could hear a large splash of emerging from the tub followed by Face screaming at the top of his lungs, "HEY WORLD, I'M TAKING A BATH! COME IN AND WATCH ME!"

Murdock beat on the door and called in, "Facey stop that! You already got a black book full of women's numbers, you want them to start canceling on you? You're acting crazier than me."

Jean came into the living room and asked them, "What the hell is going on in there?"

"I don't know, Facey's being weird," Murdock told her.

"Well go in there and make sure he's not doing something he can get arrested for," Jean said.

"Good idea," Murdock replied, "Central booking's a hell of a place for a come-as-you-are party."

Murdock went in, closed the door behind him, and Jean and B.A. could hear half of the muffled dialogue in the bathroom.

"Get away, get away from me," Face said, sounding annoyed.

"Now Facey, you can't go running around without anything on, it's indecent, besides you'll catch cold that way," Murdock said.

"Murdock, I am _tired_ of everybody parading through here while I'm trying to get a bath! All I want is to be left alone for half an hour, is that too much to ask?"

"Of course it isn't."

"_Don't_ talk down to me!" Face replied, "I don't like when people talk down to me!"

"Yeesh," Jean said to B.A., "He sounds like my mother trying to return a rotten melon to the store."

B.A. signaled for her to be quiet, though he was about to bust a gut laughing.

"There ya go, Facey," Murdock said, "Now you're all wrapped up and snug as a bug in a rug."

By now the fight seemed to be out of Face and they could hear him letting out a large sigh, "Thanks, Murdock, I'm sorry…I don't know what came over me." Then they could practically hear him cringing as he added, "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed."

"Hey it's nothing to worry about," Murdock assured him, "Fortunately the bubbles covered most of ya."

Jean and B.A. stumbled away from the door, both about to rip loose laughing. A few minutes later, the door opened and Hannibal came in carrying large paper bags, "Alright, I'm back, I've got lunch, and _somebody_ tell me that Murdock's not running around naked up here again."

"No, he ain't," B.A. answered.

Jean only looked at him and asked, "_Again_?"

Hannibal ignored her question and said only as he set the bags down on the coffee table, "Good, I got back and there seemed to be a line of people set up in the street looking up here at something and laughing. I guess that it must've been a nut on a _different_ floor then."

B.A. choked on a laugh and replied, "Yeah, that must be it."


	22. Chapter 22: Black and Blue

22. Black and Blue

Author's note: Well, here's one chapter that some of you have been waiting for, I think it'll prove satisfactory.

"Will you get off my back?" Face asked as he stormed into the apartment, "I _said_ I was sorry!"

"You're sorry," Jean said as she followed in behind him, a rag wrapped around her left hand, "I _told_ you that that skirt was with Decker, but did you listen? _Noooo_. You _never_ listen."

"You're just mad at me because you hurt your hand," Face said.

"You got that right," she told him, "Take the keys, you said, get the car ready, you said, and then what happened?"

Face turned back to her and said, "It's not _my_ fault the wind picked up."

"Your damn car," Jean told him, "Door blows back, busts my arm, my wrist gonna be nice and purple for a month, door slams shut again. I open it again, door blows back _again_, hits the key ring, slams the key _into_ my hand. Even if it _does_ heal right and get back to normal someday, I'm _never_ going to forgive you for this."

"So what else is new?" Face asked.

"If Murdock would've told you something was wrong with that broad, you would've listened to him, but _I_ say the same thing and I must be wrong, _then_ the men in green show up, and we have to make an emergency exit."

"Alright, so I made a mistake," Face said.

"More than once!" Jean told him, "Face you are so predictable, _everybody_ knows an attractive woman is your biggest weakness, how many times now has Decker used one to try and catch you?"

He glared at her and asked, "Is there a point to this or is this just the kick-the-lieutenant-while-he's-down hour?"

"Oh believe me, Face," Jean told him, "When we reach that point you will _know_ it."

His own temper was growing considerably short with her, and he started to lash out. "Exactly _what_ is it about ugly women that they see something wrong with _every_ single woman whose only crime _is_ being attractive?"

"Ugly huh?" Jean asked, getting puffed up like a cat ready for a fight, and sounding like she was enjoying the buildup, "Well better to be an ugly woman who gets by on her own merit than some _flabby_ lieutenant," she poked his stomach, "Who whines every single time he has to get his hands the least bit dirty."

"Flabby!?" Face replied in disbelief.

"That's what I said," Jean said, and grabbed a part of his stomach that wasn't pure skin and muscle and jiggled it.

"Will you stop that!?" Face said as he moved and without really thinking about it, backhanded her.

The split second following it left everything so still and silent that a pin could be heard dropping a mile away. Face barely had time to remember that Decker had once made the mistake of backhanding Jean, and to remember what she did to him in response, just before Jean did the same thing to him and grabbed him and knocked his head back against the wall.

Jean was fast but Face was strong, he pushed her back and then kicked her in the stomach and knocked her back, she fell to the floor but immediately got up again, and then the fight _really_ started.

* * *

"I told Face if they managed to get away to come back here first and check in," Hannibal told Murdock and B.A. as they climbed the stairs to his apartment, "Now, I didn't hear Decker bragging on the radio that they'd caught Face, so he had to have gotten away."

"I hope," Murdock replied.

They reached the third floor, and heard a ruckus coming from Hannibal's apartment. The three men looked at each other and then rushed to the door to see what was going on. Hannibal was the first one in, and immediately the first one back out as his 50-something year old spine did a good impression of a bowling ball going down the lane as he got thrown out of his own apartment. Murdock and B.A. moved in next to see what was going on, and neither knew what to make of it. Jean and Face were neck and neck in a fight to end all fights, and it was impossible to tell who was winning.

Murdock moved to try and break it up but B.A. grabbed him and yanked him back. Hannibal reemerged in the doorway and watched the melee before giving the order for B.A. to grab one and he'd take the other, he wanted this over with before somebody actually killed the other.

Picking one was a hard choice, on one hand B.A. knew Face and how he fought, who better to combat army fighting than another army man? But Hannibal could also deal with that, so B.A. grabbed Jean, pulled her away from the Lieutenant and lifted her off her feet, while Hannibal came up behind Face and restrained him as well.

"Alright that's enough," he told them both in his authoritative tone, "This isn't the Wrestling Federation. _Now_, we're going to let go of you two and I expect you _both_ to keep your distance from each other, _understand_?"

Neither said anything at first, they just glared at each other.

"_Understand_?" Hannibal repeated.

"Yes," they answered reluctantly.

"Alright, B.A., on three…one, two, three." They let go of the Lieutenant and the honorary Corporal and the two surprised them by actually staying away from each other, instead of lunging back into a fight to the death.

"Alright, now I don't _care_ what started this," Hannibal told them, then he noticed Jean was leaking some blood onto the floor and he followed the trail to the hand she tried rewrapping in a rag, he grabbed it to take a look, "What the hell happened to you? Now _don't_ tell me he bit you." He looked to the Captain and told him, "Murdock, get this cleaned up."

"Yes, Colonel," Murdock answered.

"You tend to your wife and I'll tend to our Lieutenant," Hannibal said as he turned to Face.

Murdock walked Jean into the bathroom, and Hannibal moved Face over towards the kitchen.

"Alright, Lieutenant, so what happened?" Hannibal asked.

Face laughed and said, "I thought you didn't care what started this."

"Face, have you ever known me to be _completely_ honest with you up front?" Hannibal asked, flashing his trademark grin that upset Face to no end.

"Well what can I say? Decker came in, we got out, Jean got mad at me because she got her hand smashed up," Face said.

"A likely story," Hannibal replied as he examined the younger man, "So _how_ did you two come to this?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Face said.

"Alright," Hannibal said as everybody gathered together in the living room again, "So let's try this again."

He pushed Face along and Murdock shoved Jean all the way over to the couch and each forced their unwilling companion to take a seat next to each other. They sat with their backs to each other, each mirroring the others perfectly, their arms folded to their chests, their heads down, scowls on their faces.

"I don't care _how_ this happened or _why_ or whose fault it was," Hannibal told them, "You two going at each other's throats is nothing new, but the extent you carried it to certainly _is_, now fortunately neither of you is going to have to be hospitalized for your injuries, _however_ I can already tell you're both going to be taken out of commission for the next few days, either voluntarily or forcibly. _And_, I think the best way to deal with both of you is to have you both spend those next few days _on_ this hide-a-bed together."

They both groaned in response to that.

"Now," Hannibal continued, "I want you two to turn around and _look_ at each other." He figured they'd take it one step at a time.

They did, they each slowly turned around on the couch and looked at each other, and each looked at the bloodied, black and blue faces they had created, and they both bust out laughing.

Murdock didn't get it, B.A. didn't either, and Hannibal was just about as clueless as the other two. But for some reason, Face and Jean couldn't stop laughing at the damage they had done to one another. Face had a split lip, a cut over his eye, a bruise on his cheek, and he laughed so hard his lip split even further and he didn't seem to notice. Likewise Jean managed to get her mouth open so wide around the bruises she'd sustained that all her teeth were showing, and it was obvious she needed to get two of her top teeth bonded over to cover the silver fillings in her mouth. Both laughed so long and so hard that finally they lost their balance and fell back against the couch.

* * *

Hannibal was aware that he was laughing for a couple of seconds before he woke up. The dream was still fresh in his mind but at the same time he couldn't remember what he'd been laughing at. He looked up and saw B.A. standing over him with one very confused look on his face.

"What's going on, Sergeant?" he asked.

"Time to make the rounds again," B.A. told him.

At first Hannibal didn't know what B.A. was talking about, but he slowly got himself up from his bed and followed B.A. out to the living room.

On the hide-a-bed he saw Jean and Murdock sleeping alongside each other, Jean's arm was done up in a makeshift sling Hannibal had put together with his belt and a dish towel and a medicated ice pack, which by now the contents of it had melted and needed changing. Her whole forearm was purple from where the van door had swung back and hit it when a sudden wind blew the door back faster than she could stop it. Her hand on the same arm had been bandaged up from where one of the keys had impaled her palm when the door hit them as well. On a cot set up on the floor, Face was also asleep, the cut next to his mouth looking only secondary to how swollen his lips had gotten from where he'd been hit. It's hard to ever believe somebody's excuse of 'walking into a door', but such had been the case for the Lieutenant, he'd made the mistake of walking up to a door that B.A. was on the other side of and slammed open as he and Hannibal just managed to escape from the MPs once again. They'd returned to Hannibal's apartment three hours ago, and around every hour mark, Hannibal checked on them to see if anything was looking worse, or hopefully better, or if they needed anymore painkillers. Murdock had alternated between staying with Jean on the couch, or down on the floor by Face, his loyalty to both divided straight down the middle.

Hannibal went over to the couch and felt the icepack that by now felt like a water pack. He found the buckle to the belt and undid it, waking up Jean in the process.

"What's going on?" she tiredly asked.

"Sorry kid, time to change this," he told her.

"Oh," Jean laid right back down and fell back asleep.

Hannibal turned her arm to see how the damage was looking. He was just so thankful she hadn't broken it, and he was sure she felt the same way. The bruised area felt cold to the touch, he guessed just about numb from sleeping on the ice for two hours. As he removed the towel and belt, it moved her arm clear up to the shoulder which moved back and nudged Murdock, who also woke up.

"How's she been holding up, Captain?" he asked.

"Oh she been good, Colonel," Murdock tiredly replied, "She hasn't threatened to kill anybody since she got her medicine last."

"And the Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock could hardly even keep his eyes open as he lifted his head and said, "Oh he just been sleeping like a baby, Colonel."

"That's good," Hannibal said.

Murdock tried opening his eyes further and asked, "Is it dinnertime yet, Hannibal?"

"Not yet, go on back to sleep, Murdock, we'll let you know when," he said.

"Okay," Murdock slumped his head back down and also went back to sleep. Worrying about the others always took a physical toll on him as well as mental and emotional, talk about a triple threat.

Hannibal moved over to the cot and knelt down to get a better look at the sleeping Lieutenant. Face managed to get his eyes open when he sensed somebody standing over him.

"How're _you_ doing, Face?" Hannibal asked.

Face licked the split in his top swollen lip and replied tiredly, "Fine, Hannibal."

"Alright," he replied, "We're going to get dinner started soon, anything in particular sound good to you?"

Face winced at the bruise over his eye and said, "No steak."

Hannibal chuckled, "Alright." He got up and headed towards the kitchen with B.A. following behind him. Hannibal stopped, turned around and asked the Sergeant, "Did anything happen with them while I was asleep?"

B.A. shook his head, "No, why?"

"Oh…no reason," Hannibal told him.


	23. Chapter 23: Twenty-Four

23. Twenty-Four

Hannibal scrunched his eyes shut for a second as he swallowed the last of his coffee. Usually once a mission was over there was a mixture of satisfaction at a job well done, relief for the threat to be over, and rapturous joy at being paid, the times they _did_ get paid. This time the only thing he was feeling was complete and utter exhaustion; his bottom eyelids felt like leather suitcases, his eyes burnt like he'd been out in the wind all day, all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep for three days, and he knew all of his men felt the exact same way.

This had been a larger task to take on than most, enough that Hannibal had decided to call on some additional help so he'd enlisted both Amy _and_ Jean to come and assist them on their mission. After the fiasco of last time everybody tried to make sure Amy would be as far out of the line of fire as was possible, and there had been plenty of exchanges of gunfire on both sides, but fortunately this time they came through without anybody getting hit.

Now, it was over, they were back, they were all at Hannibal's apartment once again, getting everything unloaded, unpacked, sorting through everybody's belongings that had been taken along. They still had a lot of work to do, after which Hannibal knew everybody was overdue for a shower, a change of clothes, a hot meal, and a good night's sleep, though he doubted anybody was too particular about what order it went in. He'd been up for almost 20 hours, not anything he hadn't done plenty of times before, any of the Team for that matter, but every time it was more or less the same; as long as there was something happening to keep the adrenaline flowing they did alright, but when things slowed down and nothing was happening, then the fatigue set in, and it hit them as soon as the job was over like a ton of bricks.

Amy entered the kitchen, looking about as exhausted as he felt. She'd been on the dead run with everyone else for almost 14 hours, and when that involved dodging gunfire, assisting in loading machine guns, and helping make a case full of Molotov cocktails and playing decoy, it took a different kind of exhausting toll than just going above and beyond the duty of a news reporter for a big story.

"Hey," she said, looking halfway like a zombie, complete with dark circles under her eyes and a blank stare that almost saw right through him.

Hannibal nodded in response and after a few seconds managed to reply, "Hey yourself."

Amy didn't bother trying to suppress a large yawn and asked him, "So, what do you have planned now that the mission's over?"

"You first," he said.

Amy smiled and said, "I'm going to go back to my apartment, crawl into bed, and sleep until Monday."

"Sounds good," Hannibal replied, "I think I'll do the same."

He caught the look she gave him and he laughed. "I meant _here_."

"Ah," she replied.

"_Dammit!_" they heard from the bedroom.

"Uh-oh," Amy said.

"That doesn't sound good," Hannibal said in his usual nonchalant manner as he left the kitchen and went back into the bedroom. It especially didn't sound good because he knew that that was Jean.

Hannibal's bedroom looked like a junkyard with everything scattered all over the place. Over by the bed were their guns, one of which apparently Jean had been in the process of cleaning when she had her little outburst.

"Alright, Jean, what's the matter?" Hannibal asked as he went over to her.

Jean closed her eyes for a second and then forced them open to look at him as she explained, "Sorry, Hannibal, I was cleaning the rifle and I…I just…"

It didn't go over the Colonel's head that Jean was so exhausted she couldn't even finish the sentence. But from what he could gather based on what he saw was that during the middle of cleaning the gun, Jean had forgotten what she was even doing, and only made a bigger mess of it.

"Jean," Hannibal said, maintaining his calm and collective disposition with her, "When was the last time you slept?"

Jean didn't even answer his question, and it alarmed Hannibal to realize that the reason obviously was because she hadn't even heard it, that, or either couldn't or didn't acknowledge what he'd said. She just looked at him with a confused, almost blank expression on her face, no idea what he'd just said to her. Now _that_ was exhausted.

"Alright," he said as he reached for her, "Come on, Jean."

"N-no I still got work to do here," Jean said as she turned back towards the bed, "I've got to get the…"

"It's alright, Jean, come on," Hannibal told her as he escorted her out of the bedroom.

He looked down and noticed that Jean's hands were filthy, gun oil and cleaning solvent, it went halfway up her arms. "Come on, kid, we're going to take a little detour."

"Why?" she asked, right now appearing as jumpy as a rabbit in cat territory.

"It's alright, come on," he said as he walked her over to the sink and turned on the taps, "Gonna get this off your hands first, I don't want you getting this stuff in your eyes." By now Jean was beyond grasping even the simplest concepts or performing the simplest tasks so he had to get his own hands lathered up to wash off hers.

"Hannibal, I've still got work to do," Jean said, "I've got to finish cleaning the guns and then…"

"It'll keep," he told her as he grabbed a towel and dried off her hands, "Or I'll have someone else tend to it, now come on."

"Where we going?" she asked.

Hannibal walked her out to the living room and gently pushed her down on the couch, "Gonna let you get some rest, come on, lie down…"

"No-no-no, Hannibal, I still got things to do," she tiredly protested.

"It's alright," he told her, using just enough firmness in his voice to get her attention, "We'll do a shift change, somebody else will take over now and in a little while you can take over again, alright?"

Jean tiredly nodded, "Alright…"

"Okay," Hannibal said, "Now just close your eyes and get some rest."

Jean tried to nod again but all her strength was gone and she was out cold just about as quick as she could close her eyes. Hannibal grabbed the blanket off the top of the couch and covered her with it. Then he went back into the bedroom, went over to the Lieutenant and asked him, "Face, did you tell Jean to clean the weapons when we got back?"

Face looked completely clueless on the matter, "No, I didn't."

Hannibal turned to look at Murdock and B.A., who also shook their heads and denied it. Hannibal turned around and saw Amy had followed him in, she pressed herself back against the wall and said, "Well don't look at me."

Hannibal turned around again, and asking all of them, and no one in particular, "Then what the hell was she doing? If nobody told her…_why_ did she do it?"

Murdock had the idea to offer the suggestion, "She was trying to help, only thing that makes sense."

"Why?" Hannibal asked, "She never did before."

For that, nobody had an answer.

* * *

Jean slept all that afternoon. Hannibal finally woke her up around 8 o' clock that night, long after everybody else had gone home for the night.

"Come on, kid, wake up," he said as he shook her shoulder.

Jean opened her eyes and asked him, "What's going on? What time is it?"

"You mean what day is it?" Hannibal replied, "Come on, kid, you slept through dinner, I saved you a plate." He put his hand on her shoulder as she got up and asked her, "You feeling okay, kid?"

Jean stopped to yawn and said, "Yeah, fine."

Hannibal walked behind her as they went to the kitchen.

"How long was I asleep?" Jean asked.

"About 10 hours," Hannibal told her as they sat down, "While you were asleep, we all had a little discussion and from what we were able to piece together, you were the first one awake when the others got up this morning, and you were the last one still up last night…now I _know_ you don't always do well to get up of your own accord, _especially_ before everybody else…meaning that you never went to sleep last night, which also means that you were up for at _least_ 24 hours. And I want to know why."

Jean poked at her dinner with her fork and looked at him, "How does it usually go in the army, one guy stays up, takes the first watch, everybody else sleeps, then they switch? Everybody else was asleep, you were gone making sure the traps were set right, _somebody_ had to keep watch until you returned, what if we were ambushed during the night?"

"Why the hell didn't you tell us this when everyone got up this morning?" Hannibal asked.

"We all had our jobs to do, what was I going to say? I can't do mine because I'm tired?"

Hannibal looked down to the table and nodded, "Alright, that's a fair point, but what about when we got back? After it was over, why didn't you say something then? Why didn't you just sleep then? More to the point," he looked at her, "_Why_ when we got back where _you_ cleaning the guns? Nobody asked you to do it, nobody _would_ for that matter."

"It _is_ something I know how to do," she told him, "I used to do it all the time when…" she stopped, "Back _before_ you found me…what is it they teach you in the army? This is your rifle, it is your life, a dirty weapon's gonna _blow up_ in your face…I remembered that lesson well, when I had to kill, I always made sure they were cleaned before I used them. It's something I've done enough times, I could do it with my eyes closed, and then today in the middle of it my mind just went _blank_, I couldn't think…I couldn't remember a basic task that I've done for two years."

"Because you were exhausted," he pointed out, "I don't get it, Jean."

Jean didn't respond. Hannibal didn't say anything else while she ate, but once dinner was over and they moved to the living room he asked her, "So what's going on, Jean?"

"Nothing's going on," she replied, "You're certainly becoming a suspicious character."

"I think I have reason to be," he said, "You've always been a little weird but right now you're acting more so than usual."

"So what's the problem?" Jean asked, "I proved that I'm reliable, haven't I?"

"Jean, anymore it just seems you're trying to do everything by the extremes, just like the obstacle course."

"It's not extreme when _you_ do it, and I ran your obstacle course, I passed it, I ran your 10 mile march, I did it all, I _proved_ I could do it," Jean told him.

"Yes, but I never asked you to," Hannibal replied, "And I certainly never _told_ you to do it either, so what were you trying to prove by doing it?"

Some of the fight in Jean left her and visibly she seemed deflated by his question. She became calmer and seemed almost melancholic as she answered, not quite so able to meet his eyes now, "Maybe myself…"

Hannibal blinked and his eyebrows knitted together, "Prove yourself? What for? To who?"

Jean looked at him and responded, "Just trying to prove that maybe I _do_ have a place here, maybe I _do_ belong."

Hannibal was lost. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Look, Hannibal, I've always known what the score is, I've said it before, there's only room enough on the Team for the four of you, Amy's not a part of you but she _does_ have a place _with_ you. She's got something to offer, a woman of her position can get her hands on a lot of information the rest of the general public is not entitled to, that's her contribution to helping you guys out, she also is not expendable."

Hannibal blinked, "And you are?"

"The things I do to help you are things that _anybody_ can do, and maybe you'd soon decide that you'd _rather_ it be anyone else, so long as it isn't me," Jean said.

"Now _why_ would you think that?" he wanted to know.

Jean folded her arms tightly against her chest and said, "Because maybe it'll be decided that Murdock would be better off with someone else, _anyone_ else so long as it isn't me, and if that happens then there really is _nothing_ keeping me here."

Hannibal cocked his head to the side and looked at her confusedly, "You think Murdock's not going to want to marry you? After _everything_ that you two have already been through together?"

"Well if he doesn't decide that," Jean said, "Maybe _you_ would."

"Me?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Let's face it, Hannibal, you didn't want us married the first time around," Jean told him, "And you were right. You said in the beginning that Murdock was going to get hurt by it, and he _was_…but so was _I_. Regardless of why we did it, I _did_ love him, and I still do, and I would've been happy _staying_ married to him…but he decided we shouldn't be, and you know whenever Murdock gets one of those gut feelings he's usually right. Maybe it was wrong of me to leave that decision solely to him, but I didn't want him staying with me if he didn't want to. He deserves something better than me, everybody knows it and even _I_ can admit it. And the only reason I'm here _now_ is because I _was_ married to him and because we were planning to again."

Hannibal felt like he'd just been slapped in the face.

"You really believe that, kid?" he asked her.

"I really don't know _what_ to believe, Hannibal, do I?" Jean asked, "You're not sociable people, who're your friends outside of the others? There really aren't any around, are there? And not because you're not likeable people, meaning you tend to keep a distance from most people who aren't in your innermost circle. And maybe if Murdock and I don't get remarried, I'll find myself standing outside of it as well…even if we were married, what does that change? But if I had a purpose for being here, if I served a _real_ purpose and could be of genuine help to you, maybe I'd stand a chance of staying."

Boy oh boy, Hannibal thought as he slapped the side of his face, he needed to get this straightened out and fast.

"Come over here, kid," he said as he grabbed her by the arm and walked her over to the couch.

"No," she told him.

"Alright then, over _here_," he said as he moved over to his chair and sat down, yanking her along with him.

Jean found herself draped over Hannibal's lap again, only this time she was sober enough to consciously notice it.

"Look, Jean," he told her, "You don't have to prove anything to me, or any of the others…and if for some reason you and Murdock do _not_ get married, that is not going to change anything either."

"Yeah well…that might be the better option of the two," she told him, "Because at this rate, I'm going to outlive _any_ usefulness I have before long."

"What're you talking about?" Hannibal asked.

"Let's recap, shall we?" Jean asked cynically, "First and foremost remember who you're dealing with here, a former morphine addict _and_ a cold blooded killer who gladly butchered over 20 men, including Navy SEALs."

"Old history," Hannibal replied lightly, "As many chances as you've had to kill Decker and you let him walk away every time, I don't believe you have it in you to kill _anyone_ anymore. And as to your little problem, we know that you're not using _these_ days."

"Then there're the other things," Jean reminded him, "I'm prone to debilitating migraines that render me absolutely useless for the better part of the whole day, no warning, no advanced notice of when it's going to happen, they just come out of nowhere, and then all I'm good for is asking someone to shoot me and put me out of my misery."

"A lot of people get migraines," Hannibal responded, "You can't fire people for having them and you can't discharge them for it either, besides these days they have a better choice of medications to treat them."

"More pills, just great," Jean sniped.

"It happens, Jean, you know how many pills and injections we go through just to get B.A. on a plane? Your headaches and any treatment for those would be the least of our problems."

"Sure, but then there's a much bigger problem to consider," Jean told him, "What about the night after we got back from your obstacle course? You remember that?"

"What about it?" he asked dismissively.

"How much use is a person who can't even walk going to be around here should it ever happen again, and maybe last longer, or even takes?" Jean asked, "Murdock doesn't deserve to be stuck with that for the rest of his life and you wouldn't want it around either, too much of a burden, puts you at too much of a risk."

Hannibal was shaking his head, "Jean, it could happen to anybody, _anybody_ could be fine one minute and then have something happen to them and be paralyzed, it happens all the time; car accidents, falls, strokes, any number of diseases, _nobody_ is immune from that risk. But you know if any of those things happened to you, Murdock would still want you with him."

"Except it's never been an issue to deal with, has it?" she replied, "So you really can't say that for certain."

"Yes I can, I _know_ Murdock."

"I know him too, and I also know how low of a blow it is to leave somebody who's a cripple, Murdock would know that too, he might stay but he wouldn't be happy, _nobody_ would," Jean said.

Hannibal pulled her closer to him and patted her on the back. He didn't say anything, but he understood very well. Jean had gotten scared when she couldn't walk, as anybody would be, and now her imagination was warped into overdrive looking at every worst case scenario possible to decide what might be in her future, and it seemed what she saw was being pushed away for not living up to somebody's expectations, but whose?

"Hey," he told her and got her to look at him, "I want you to listen to me, alright? If you _ever_ had anything to prove to us you did that a long time ago. When we went to New York for Thanksgiving, I promised your mother that I'd keep an eye on you and make sure you stayed out of trouble." He winked at her and added, "Well I've kept half my promise anyway…Jean, it doesn't matter what you do or _don't_ do, you are here because we _want_ you here. Murdock is with you because he loves you," he cupped her face in his hand to force her to look at him as he added, "And _we_ love you."

Jean said nothing, her breathing was heavier now but not rapid, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I just don't want to find out someday that I'm not wanted around anymore," she said.

Hannibal used one hand to support her head like a baby as he adjusted the way she was sitting on his lap so she was straighter, and he told her, "You may not believe this but I've gone through this exact same thing with the guys." Jean picked her head up and stared at him quizzically. Hannibal knew that it was because she was trying to picture any one of them on his lap like this. "Well you _know_ what I mean," he added, and she rested her head against him again, "You think they don't have their own doubts about how long they'll be able to serve a purpose on the Team?"

"As long as they're alive," Jean said.

"You see it, but they don't always," Hannibal told her, "They all question their places, and their uses, the advantages against the disadvantages, the pros and cons, their problems and any way it affects their work, it's natural…but none of them are going anywhere and the same's true about you, Jean."

"I don't want to," she replied, "But I'd rather be kicked out than kept when I'm not wanted."

Hannibal craned her head to the side and kissed her and told her, "Neither one's going to happen, I give you my word on that."

Jean pressed her face against Hannibal's shoulder and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," Jean replied as she pulled her head up to look at him, "I can just picture Murdock sitting on your lap like this."

Hannibal had a good laugh at that idea as well, "You're probably right, anymore it's hard to remember."

"I'd think you'd remember a 150 pound man sitting on your lap," Jean said.

Hannibal chuckled and replied, "With _all_ the antics he's pulled over the years? Are you nuts?"

"I _was_ married to him, I must be," she said.

Jean closed her eyes again and rested her head on his shoulder, in a couple minutes she was dead to the world. Hannibal considered his options and decided to just put her to bed. He repositioned his arms underneath her and lifted her up and got up himself.

"Oof," he moaned to himself, "This kid's getting heavy." Still, he managed to carry her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed and got her comfortable for the night. The whole time, she never moved a muscle.

Hannibal smiled at the unconscious woman and leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head and said to her, "You're _not_ expendable, kid."


	24. Chapter 24: Neighbors

24. Neighbors

Author's notice: Advanced warning, this chapter started to run long so it's going to be broken up into two parts.

"No kidding," Face huffed as he helped Hannibal carry an old trunk into his living room, "So the old woman next door just moved out and left all her stuff behind?"

"Apparently she believed in using the third option of rent payment around here," Hannibal replied with a small grunt.

"Third option?" Face asked.

"Sure, Face, didn't you ever see that movie?" Murdock asked as he followed in behind them, and counted off on his fingers, "A. credit card, B., cash, C., sneak out in the middle of the night. _Very_ popular choice."

Behind him, B.A. grunted as he carried in a large packing crate and told him, "Shut up fool and get out of my way, 'fore I drop this on your foot."

"Getting out of the way, mudsucker sir!" Murdock saluted as he moved to the side.

"Okay that's far enough," Hannibal told them, "Put it down."

B.A. dropped the crate, and they dropped the trunk, and spent a few seconds trying to catch their breath.

"So how well did you know her?" Face asked, "I don't think I ever heard you talk about her."

"Didn't know her well," Hannibal explained, "In all the years she's been here I think I talked to her twice, but given the fact that she's had to have heard everything going on in this apartment and never said one word to anybody, tells me she has to be alright."

"Or deaf," Face added.

"Or both," Murdock added.

"So, the landlord said if she doesn't come back to get her things, he's tossing it out the window."

"Makes sense since there's no elevator," Face said.

"Anyway, I said I'd hold onto it for a few days and see if she comes back for it, but somehow I doubt she will. Still, I can't help wondering why that old woman who has lived in that apartment for the past six years just picked up and left in the night."

"Hannibal, what's in the trunk?" Murdock asked.

"I don't know, it's locked."

"Can we take a look?" he asked.

"Murdock, you can't go sorting through another person's private things," Face said.

Hannibal came up behind Face and suggested into his ear, "He can if you pick the lock, Lieutenant."

Face turned around and looked at him suspiciously, "Really, Hannibal?"

"I don't think she's coming back, and in any case if she does, we'll put everything back and relock it."

Face sighed and said, "Alright," and reached into his pocket for one of his picks.

"I just hope we don't find a dead body stuffed in there somewhere," Hannibal said as he went over and closed the door.

On the other side they heard something hit the door followed by somebody's muffled screaming and raving. Hannibal opened the door again and stepped aside, "Sorry, Jean."

"Yeah I'll just bet you are," she replied as she single handedly pushed in a second trunk that was larger than the first, "Murdock, give me a hand with this, we're about to get a direct view down to the 2nd floor."

Murdock went over and grabbed the handle on the other side of the trunk and helped her lift it up and move it over towards the other wall.

"Hannibal, what're we going to do with these? This place is cramped enough as it is," she said.

"Well first we're going to see what's in these things," Hannibal told her, "_If_ somebody manages to get them open before Christmas."

"Ha ha, Hannibal, very funny," Face said, "Got it."

"Alright, let's crack it open," Jean said.

They lifted the lid up and saw a lot of things crammed together into the trunk, a lot of assorted items that looked like they'd been collected from the last three or four decades.

"Let's take it out and get a better look at it," Hannibal said, "I want to make sure we didn't get left holding a few keys of heroin or something like that."

Face looked at him, "From that little old lady?"

"You'd be surprised, Face," Murdock told him, "They're cutting back on people's social security these days."

"Well let's start unpacking," Face said.

"Right, but let's be careful," Murdock replied, "I'd hate dropping a candy dish and getting somebody's granddaddy scattered all over the floor."

Everybody groaned at that suggestion. One by one they unpacked everything from the first trunk and within a few minutes the whole floor was littered with antique clutter from the past several decades.

"Well whoever the old lady is," Face commented, "She must've been a pack rat of some kind."

"I don't know, Facey, a lot of this stuff looks like collectible junk to me," Murdock said, "Not just your typical run-of-the-mill junk, look at this, antique Coke bottles."

Jean picked up something wrapped in a dish towel and found it was an old, heavy, crystal ball in a wooden holder. "Think she works as a fortune teller on the sideline?" she asked.

"I wonder if it works," Murdock said.

Jean tossed it to him and said, "Knock yourself out. If you get an answer, find out when Decker's going to make his next house call, what I wouldn't give to have a rude little surprise waiting for him when he does."

"You already do," Face told her, "Yourself."

Jean picked up a large, old mouse trap that still seemed to be in good condition and started to swing it back like she was going to hurl it at him.

"Hey Hannibal," B.A. spoke up, "How old would you say that lady is?"

"Oh…I don't know, maybe 70, why?" Hannibal asked.

B.A. stood up and showed them what he'd found wrapped up in an old handkerchief, a very old pepperbox revolver.

"Maybe 170," Jean noted, "That thing looks like it's from the Civil War."

"Could be," Hannibal said as he took it from the Sergeant. As a habit, he sniffed the muzzle and said, "Well, if it's been fired in _this_ century it hasn't been anytime recent."

"Hmmm," Murdock said as he took the gun from the Colonel, "Maybe it was Miss Peacock in the billiard hall with the revolver."

"Watch it, Murdock," Jean said, "If somebody left that thing loaded for all this time it'll blow up in your face."

"Well _there's_ your rude surprise for Decker," Face told her, "Tell him it's a cigarette lighter."

"Even _he's_ not dumb enough to fall for that," Jean replied, "Now if it were _Lynch_…"

Murdock stuck his head into the trunk and found something near the bottom and yanked it out.

"Hey, I had one of these when I was a kid," he said, the others turned to see what it was and saw it was a large metal toy bus that had definitely seen better days. The white and chrome paint was worn off, the sides were dented and the wheels were about ground down to nothing.

"I think I did too," Jean said, "Never knew _where_ it came from though."

Murdock settled himself down on the floor on his hands and knees and started testing the toy to see if the wheels could still roll against the floor. B.A. shook his head and told Hannibal, "Man gets crazier every day, Hannibal."

Jean took a turn going head first into the trunk and rising up from the bottom of it they heard a slightly muffled, "I don't know who's crazier," she rose up again and continued, "Us or that old lady, what does she do, dig this stuff out of people's trash?"

"What'd you find?" Hannibal asked.

Jean pulled some large rectangular wooden blocks out of the trunk in her hand, a long time ago they had had pictures painted on them, the bits and pieces that remained bore resemblance to playing cards, and they noticed the blocks were not all even and some had slants technically giving them five sides.

"I seem to recall having some of these when I was a kid too," she said, "Just like the bus, never knew where they came from. I guess they were leftover from when my parents were kids…" she lifted one to her nose and took a whiff, "I remember they always had a weird smell to them, like they'd been shut up somewhere and got musty, but these don't have that, these were kept somewhere well ventilated."

Face went over to where Murdock had discarded the crystal ball and looked into it, and said half jokingly, "Maybe she's a witch…how is it that those voodoo people do? They get somebody's personal effects and then use them to make those little dolls and stick pins in them?"

"Man," B.A. groaned, "Now you starting to sound like that crazy fool."

"Oh yeah?" Murdock jumped to his feet, "Well it just so happens you're wrong, I don't agree with Face."

"Good."

"Maybe she's a gypsy," Murdock replied.

B.A. did a double take and let out a furious yell through gritted teeth, one hand already reaching for Murdock's throat. Murdock jumped behind Hannibal for protection, Hannibal just stood there laughing.

"Whatever she is she's got a lot of neat junk," Jean observed as she picked up an old wooden kaleidoscope and looked in it.

"Maybe she was an eccentric who robbed antique shops," Face guessed, "So far I haven't seen any family memorabilia."

"If you don't have a family, then you have _things_," Jean said, "So this is either her life right here, or the remainders of somebody else's…or a whole lot of somebodies."

"Hell of an assortment either way," Hannibal said as he picked up an old hardback book and tried reading the title.

Jean saw Murdock moving the other trunk towards the bedroom, and she noticed how unusually quiet he was being so as not to draw any attention to himself, so she quietly got up and followed after him to see what he was up to.

"Have it hand it to the old lady," Hannibal said as he picked up an old seltzer bottle that had been empty for years, "Nothing here's dirty or broken, it's all old but it's all been kept in good condition."

Face was scratching his head, "So why would she leave it all behind?"

B.A. had a thought as he flipped through some very old mechanical and scientific magazines, "Maybe it's like what they say about elephants."

Face and Hannibal looked at each other and Face murmured, "I'd expect that from Murdock." He raised his voice and asked, "_What_ do they say about elephants?"

"You know, how they always know where to go when they die, find a patch of quicksand to sink in right away," B.A. said, "If you ain't comin' back, ain't no reason to take everything with you."

The Colonel and the Lieutenant looked at each other again questioningly, Face replied, "Man's got a point, Hannibal."

"I suppose it's possible," Hannibal said, "But I still don't know. What I don't get is why the landlord would want to just throw all this stuff away, if he actually goes through the boxes he could turn a nice profit off some of this junk."

"Not _this_," Face replied as he picked up a well worn statue of an elephant that had seen better days.

"Now _that_," Hannibal said as he took it from the Lieutenant and felt it in his own hands, "Is something kept for sentimental value and nothing more, as ugly as it is there wouldn't be any other reason."

Face picked up a handful of old dice that were so worn and faded that the spots were almost gone, "How does a person even begin to organize this stuff? How would you know what time period everything was from?"

"Does it matter?" B.A. asked.

Jean stepped out in the bedroom doorway and called out, "Hey Hannibal."

"Yeah?" he replied.

Jean stayed where she was and asked him, "What are pedal pushers?"

Hannibal was hunched over looking through a very old deck of cards that were stained and greasy and he answered casually, "Well that's an old name for women's pants that…" he stopped, widened his eyes, stood up straight, turned around and asked her, "Why?"

Jean pointed into the bedroom and answered, "I think Murdock found something he likes."

"Oh no," Face laughed.

Murdock came out into the living room modeling off a pair of denim blue pants that hugged his thighs and just came down a couple inches past his knees.

"How do they look?" he asked.

"Like you' even crazier than I thought possible," B.A. told him.

"Hannibal," Jean nodded her head towards the bedroom.

He followed her in and asked her, "What's up?"

"I think there's some stuff in this trunk you can use for your disguises, it looks like the wardrobe department at the studio," Jean said.

Hannibal went over and dug through the contents of the trunk and found several latex masks, wigs, hair extensions, and an assortment of costumes that ranged from police officer to doctor to can-can dancer. Some he recognized as being older than others, the can-can dress was particularly a well preserved number from a previous era.

"What do you think it means?" Jean asked.

Hannibal examined the outfits, most of them were the same size though the more frilly women's costumes were a couple sizes smaller. In the bottom of the trunk he found what he was really looking for, several pairs of shoes, men's shoes and women's, and the women's were divided into high heels and dress shoes, to the plainer type of shoes that old women wore.

"These are the same size as the men's shoes," Hannibal said as he held up a pair of the old lady heeled boots.

"You mean she was a he?" Jean asked.

"Could be," Hannibal said as he found an old gray wig in the trunk and he subconsciously clutched it in one hand and stroked through it with the other, like it was a cat, "Echo, you've really outdone yourself."

"Echo?" Jean repeated, "You mean from 'The Unholy Three'?"

He smiled at her, "You saw that movie too, eh? Then you know what I'm talking about."

"But…why would a man spend six years disguising himself as a woman?" Jean asked.

"An old lady, _and_ a cop, _and_ a doctor, _and_," Hannibal pulled up a green uniform, "A general."

Jean shrugged and said, "I have a lot of those same outfits in _my_ closet at home…you think it's to do with being an actor in Hollywood?"

"Or," Hannibal replied, "He's the perfect criminal."

"He's like you and Face," Jean guessed, "A new look, a new identity, a new title…and he can disappear into the wind with a dozen other aliases ready to go…but then why leave all this behind?"

"Perhaps we'll never know," Hannibal said, "But it does make me wonder what happened to the female accomplice he _obviously_," he held up the can-can dress, "Had?"

"Well she's not in any of the trunks, that's for sure," Jean replied, "But if this guy _was_ a criminal…what do you think he did?"

Hannibal didn't answer her, but it wasn't because he couldn't guess, he _could_ guess, he could do even better than guess. He said nothing to her, so she wouldn't catch on to what he was really thinking, just as he'd made sure so far that the others couldn't pick up what he really knew either. But the word weighed heavily on his mind because he knew the answer to the question: murder.


	25. Chapter 25: Echo

25. Echo

Hannibal sat alone in his living room the next day. It was a dark day outside, matching perfectly to his own mood. He'd made sure that the others weren't going to be coming over, he wanted, _needed_ to be left alone today. Letting out a sigh, he pushed back in his rocking recliner, thinking about the events of the past couple of days, and what it all meant. On the wall he could hear the clock ticking and it matched perfectly with the beating of his heart against his throat.

There was a knock at the door and he knew they were at zero hour now. He got up and went to answer it, he didn't bother asking who it was, he knew Decker would never bother knocking, would just bust his way in. And it _wasn't_ Decker. Standing at the door was a man in his 70s, his build slight, about like Murdock only with a few more pounds on him, his grayish blue eyes as sharp as ever though he wore a small and outdated set of spectacles, his hair short and gray, gradually turning white. Hannibal knew this man, knew him even without his old lady glasses and wig and the ankle length dresses he'd worn on those few occasions Hannibal had spoken to him out in the hallway.

"Johnny," the man said as he smiled at him.

Hannibal nodded and managed a small smile in return, "Hello, Hector."

"Am I welcome in?" the man asked him.

Hannibal nodded, "Come on in."

The old man came into the apartment and moved over to a chair to sit down, "It's so good to see you again, Johnny."

"It's nice to see you too," Hannibal said as he sat down in a chair across from Hector.

This man was a friend of his parents 50 years ago, another performer who knocked the live audiences dead first, then tried getting into the movies when vaudeville shifted gears and went before the cameras in Hollywood. His name was Hector Browning, but to Hannibal, he would always be known as Echo, and the old man knew why.

And even now, over 40 years later, he couldn't resist taunting the younger man asking him in a mischievous tone, "So how's my little Tweedledee been all these years?"

Hannibal laughed at the joke, "I've been doing alright…and yourself?"

"Oh, can't complain, Johnny, I've been good, I've been better, but I can't complain," he said.

Hector looked around the apartment and said, "Well, I see you got everything out alright."

Hannibal nodded, "Yeah, thanks."

Hector rocked back in the chair once and then let it fall forward again. "Johnny, I'm sorry I didn't get in contact with you sooner…you can't imagine how shocked I was to find out you were my next door neighbor."

"I guess I can understand why you didn't," Hannibal said.

"It's just, if anybody would've found out who I really was…"

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he said.

The old man nodded in agreement and replied, talking more to himself than to Hannibal, "Why shouldn't there be a statute of limitations on murder? The victim's dead, they can't complain…if you get through 30 years, 50, without being caught, without any additional 'victims', you should be able to walk around freely."

Hannibal propped one balled up hand under his cheek and felt his eyes starting to sting. This man sitting before him was one of the best friends of his family, and he hadn't seen Hector since before he got shipped off to Korea. Once he'd come back home, he'd found out police were looking for Hector in connection to a murder that had taken place at a bar nearby. They'd never caught him, but Hannibal had never believed it was murder, Hector Browning was a lot of things, but he'd never murder anyone.

"Some of the neighbors had said…" Hannibal recalled openly for the first time in 30 years, "That it had been self defense."

"More or less," Hector shrugged, "But the cops weren't interested in hearing that back then, and they're not going to be interested in hearing it now either. And even if they did, _nobody_ would care about that when I've been a fugitive from justice for 30 years." He pushed back in the chair again and said to Hannibal, "You're the spitting image of your father."

Hannibal smirked and replied, "My father never lived long enough to go gray," and ran a hand through his light hair.

"Sure he did, he just dyed it," Hector replied.

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For six years he'd hardly caught a glance of his next door neighbor, and then just a couple of days ago he had seen the old woman standing in front of her door talking to a delivery man. He'd seen that old lady wig and those old lady glasses, and that old fashioned dress that was already old fashioned when it was made in the 1920s, and he _knew_. _That_ had been how he'd first met Hector.

His parents were a lively couple who had a lot of friends between vaudeville and the silent pictures; friends who liked to get together, drink, play cards, jibber-jabber, and laugh at all the jokes and stories everybody had to tell. They liked seeing the movies, but they always thought they could do a better job themselves. His father had stolen one of the cameras from the studio once and they tried filming their own movie, the end result had been his pay for the next month being cut to replace the camera when it got broken.

It was just as well, they weren't big on pantomiming, they were verbal people, they were used to singing and telling jokes, and had even tried a hand at serious acting a time or two. They were used to live performances where they rehearsed the act right up to the last minute and then went out and acting on pure memory got it perfect. This new idea of doing something once, and again, and again, and again, wasting film every time, to try and get it right, struck them as boring and often useless. The company they kept was also big on live performances and when they got together they would do their own live interpretations of some of the hit movies everybody was going to see. One that they'd decided to do their own amateur version of was Lon Chaney's 'The Unholy Three', and that had been how Hannibal came to know Hector Browning.

Even today he could remember his mother catching him and scooping him up in her arms and telling him that he was going to help them put on a show. They had someone for Echo the ventriloquist, and they had someone for Hercules the strongman, but they needed a child to fill in for Tweedledee the midget. She carried him over to someone sitting in a chair against the wall, and he saw a horrible old woman in a gray wig and dark glasses, with a big grin like the big bad wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. He remembered screaming and kicking his way out of his mother's arms and hit the ground running to get away from the old buzzard woman. His mother caught him and brought him back, kicking and screaming the entire time.

"Now Johnny, you stop that," she'd said, giving his backside a little smack, "Don't be rude."

She took him back to the old woman, only then Hannibal had seen she'd removed her gray hair and glasses and false teeth and showed a young man with short black hair and an amused look on his face.

"Hello, Johnny," he'd said as he took him from his mother, and settled the boy on his lap, which was covered by a purple button up dress, "My name's Hector."

Seeing that it wasn't really a woman and was just a man in costume helped to ease the young boy's fears; Hector spent a few minutes talking to Hannibal and playing with him so the boy wouldn't be afraid of him when it was time to put his getup back on. Then Hector put his face back in place, and he lifted Johnny up and laid him in a baby buggy. He'd been about four years old at the time and found the buggy was just big enough to fit him, and though he couldn't have known the word back then, it gave him a feeling of claustrophobia, it reminded him of when he first discovered he could climb out of his crib at night, as soon as that happened his parents couldn't keep him in it for anything. He always hit the ground running.

For a few days before they put on their show, his mother fed him his lines as Tweedledee, these days he couldn't remember what he'd even said even though he had since seen the film many times, but he knew that at the time whatever he'd said had been exactly right. He was Tweedledee, and Hector was Echo, and for all the years afterwards he had always been Echo, even now as Hannibal looked at this man, old and gray and getting frail, and a man wanted for murder and still at large 30 years after the fact, he was _still_ Echo.

Over the years he had gotten to know Hector very well; _he_ had been the first person Hannibal ever saw dress up as a woman, and do it convincingly, especially _old_ women. Hags they were usually called. Growing up in the same neighborhood as this man and seeing all of his tricks in action had proven a _very_ educational upbringing for Hannibal. His own father had taught him all his own tricks of vaudeville and many of the common movie tricks, but Hector had taught him how to become a woman when the situation called for it, something that oddly enough he had used often in his adult life.

"I know that look, Johnny," Hector told him as he stopped rocking, "What's troubling you?"

Hannibal sighed and answered, "You know that when my father died, I didn't get back from Korea until after he'd been buried…and by that time, most of the neighbors were pretty tight lipped about what had gone on at the time. You were there, weren't you? What happened? How did he die?"

Hector shook his head, "Oh Johnny, don't beat yourself up over this."

"No, tell me, I need to know," Hannibal told him.

The old man sucked in a slow sigh and said, "As far as we all knew, Johnny, it was just a heart attack, no foul play, no accidents, nothing that could've been changed by you being here."

That had been the easy part. Hannibal took in a harder breath and told Hector, "There's more."

Hector looked at him and slowly nodded, "Alright, Johnny, if I can answer your question then I will."

Hannibal told him, "I came back from Korea, found out that after my father's funeral, the house had burnt down and my mother was in an asylum, _what_ happened?"

Hector caught on quickly and looked surprised, "Oh, Johnny, you can't think that your mother went crazy and _set_ the house on fire."

"But she _did_ go crazy, the doctors locked her up in an asylum, it was weeks before she even recognized her own son…she spent the rest of her days talking to a husband who was dead and in the ground, talking to him like he was right there in the room with her. And even when she had recovered enough to leave the asylum she could never tell me what happened, _how_ the fire got started. So _what_ happened that day?"

Hector shook his head mournfully, "Johnny, your mother didn't go insane and start that fire, it was the fire that _made_ her lose her mind. After your father had died, I went to the house and stayed with her during the nights when she was restless. She wouldn't sleep, she was trying to get the funeral arrangements made _and_ figure out what to do when _you_ came home. That man at the bar that I killed accused me of taking advantage of your mother."

Hannibal smiled sadly and replied, "I've seen my dainty little mother toss men twice her size out of windows, I know _nobody_ took advantage of her, especially _you_."

"Yeah well…other people didn't see it that way, even accused me of being with her when your father was still alive. Maybe it wasn't self defense that I killed him in, but I wasn't going to let anybody talk about me _or_ your mother that way. When she found out the police were looking for me, she told me I could stay in a spare room of the house until the heat died down, figured after a while the cops would look to the border and after that, I could sneak away to another part of the country, or another country entirely..."

Hannibal looked at the items from the trunks scattered around the room as Hector explained, "Only room she could've used was a storage room holding all this stuff in it. She was in the midst of getting it cleaned out when somebody found out I was there and tried smoking me out. Typical coward, he couldn't take a direct approach and bust the door in and confront me face to face, that would make too much sense. A little gasoline and a flaming rag and the whole west side of the house went up in smoke in ten seconds. I got your mother out first, then I went back in and got out what I could, it was easy because everything had already been packed up in some old trunks…in no time the whole house was in flames. Of _course_ the police were brought in so I had to leave, much as I hated having to leave your mother to explain everything herself. When I found out she'd been put away, I decided first to make sure that what little that was left of your home didn't get tossed away or thrown in an incinerator somewhere. I knew that you were likely to be coming home before _too_ long."

"And my mother?" Hannibal asked.

"Johnny, I couldn't get her out, the cops were looking for me and they would've nabbed me as soon as I set foot near the asylum…believe me if I could've broken her out I would've. By that time everybody had seen my acts, any disguise, any alias I could've come up with, somebody would already know it. I'm sorry, Johnny, the cops got too close so I had to leave. I had the trunks sent on ahead to where I was going, so it'd be easier for me to just disappear unattached. I held off as long as I could, and then I finally got the word that you were coming back from Korea, I figured she'd be alright then. I knew that you'd take good care of her."

"I certainly tried anyway," Hannibal replied.

Hector smiled at him and said, "Your mother was so proud of you, that's all she talked about the whole time you were away, her _and_ your father, they were proud of you, Johnny."

Hannibal didn't say anything. He couldn't help wondering if his parents were still alive, just _what_ they would think of him now, and for the past 10 years. He noticed Hector was looking at him, and he asked, "So what happens now?"

"Well, I'm not sure that anybody would still be looking for me anymore," he explained, "All the same I think I'm going to take an extended vacation to a more…tropical climate."

Hannibal nodded slowly and asked, "So I guess this is the last time I'll see you."

As the old man started up from the chair, he pointed at Hannibal and told him, "I'll be back someday, Johnny, you can make book on that."

"I certainly hope so," he replied. He knew that the others would never, and really _could_ never find out about this, but all the same, he wanted to see the old man again sometime before he died. He was Hannibal's only link left to his own past.

Hector had just about made it to the door when he stopped, turned around and said, "Oh by the way, did you get the pictures out?"

Hannibal looked at him, confused, "No, there weren't any."

"Yes there are, follow me," the old man went into the bedroom using the basic logic that said that was where the trunks were at the moment. Hannibal followed him in and saw Hector reaching into the larger trunk, and he heard something that sounded like a piece of wood being ripped out.

"You probably don't remember," Hector said as he emerged with a large panel board, "That this trunk specifically had a false bottom in it. Your mother liked to keep their money in it, _when_ she didn't believe in carrying it on herself."

Hannibal went over to the trunk and saw several old photographs preserved behind glass and silver and bronze frames, and he felt his heartbeat speed up. He took them out in stacks and looked at them for the first time since he was in high school. Pictures of his mother and father when they were young, when they were first married, he found one of his mother smiling for the camera as she held her 2-month-old son in her arms. His mother was so small and petite and he had been such a big baby, it looked like she was posing with an Easter ham wrapped in a blanket. Though, he wasn't sure that when money was tight, she didn't try that to sneak one out of the butcher's.

The next picture he saw made him stop, and laugh. Now _there_ was his mother. All decked out in her can-can dress that she stole from the wardrobe department at the studio. The truth be told, she was not as limber or flexible as the girls who did the dance professionally, she couldn't do jumping splits or flip forward on her hands and make a perfect upright landing again, but she sure had fun dancing all the same.

And behind that picture, Hannibal couldn't believe it, there was a picture of his parents, _and_ Hector dressed up as Professor Echo posing as Grandma O'Grady, with little 4-year-old Johnny Smith sitting on his lap, doing his best to look like a 30 year old hood stuck in a baby's body. Hector glanced over his shoulder and said with a smile, "That was always my favorite, when we were all together and happy."

Hannibal turned to him and said, "I can't believe you managed to keep these for all these years."

"Well…after I read about you in the newspapers when you escaped from Fort Bragg, I figured if I hung around L.A. long enough I was bound to run into you sooner or later…I would've preferred sooner, but better late than never," Hector told him.

Hannibal could feel the tears starting to build up in his eyes and he told the old man, "Thanks, Hector, you don't know how much this means to me."

"I think I do, Johnny," he replied and squeezed the younger man's hand momentarily. "Well, I must be on my way, I wouldn't want to take a chance that somebody overheard my plans and dropped a dime to the local blue boys. After all they fry old men just as easily as they do younger ones." He stopped by the door, turned back to Hannibal and told him, "Goodbye, Tweedledee."

Hannibal managed a sad smile and saluted Hector, replying, "Farewell, Professor Echo."

After Hector had gone and Hannibal couldn't hear the footsteps descending on the stairs anymore, he paced around the apartment, moving from one room to the other, looking at everything but not noticing any of it. He looked around at the old worn down wooden blocks that had already been second hand when he got them as a kid, and the silver ashtray his mother always kept just for show, the old Coke bottles she liked to collect from their dinners, and a cigar box his father kept their steak knives in. Finally he stopped back in the living room, collapsed on the couch, brought his hands up to his face and cried, for the first time since he came home from Korea he cried for the loss of his father, and for the tragedy his mother had been put through and at what cost it had been, of her sanity.

* * *

"_Fate chained me to evil, for that I must pay the penalty."_

Hannibal opened his eyes and found himself laying on his bed looking up at the ceiling as he noticed the sun was coming through the clouds, and based on its position it was getting late. That quote still lingered in his ears, in his memory. Those were the exact words Jean had said two years ago when she was shot and thought she was dying, he remembered it well, because he remembered _where_ it had come from.

The first movie he ever saw as a kid that made him cry was Lon Chaney's "The Penalty", the first film to stir up all major emotions in him: anger, fear, grief, all but humor, but then again that wasn't a specialty of the Man of a Thousand Faces. It was a time before the Hays office and the censor board, but even then the movies were made with the mentality that there must always be redemption for evil, and more times than not it meant the villain, no matter _why_ he was the villain, must die for his sins. He remembered half walking, half running out of the theater in tears. His father had been visiting some friends that night so he'd gone with his mother. She caught up with him and when she had, she picked him up and carried him the rest of the way home, talking to him the entire time.

"Come on, Johnny, stop crying, it was only a film," she told him as she lifted her free hand and wiped away the tears streaming down his cheek, "The man who played Blizzard didn't _really_ die, and he didn't have his legs cut off either, it's all done with tricks."

Of course it was a bit much for his emotional 4-year-old mind to comprehend, he cried all the way home. His mother carried him inside, took him into the bathroom and gave him a bath. The first thing she did when she had him in the water and a rag soaked and wrung out was hold his face still and wash it until she'd scrubbed the tears away. Then she proceeded to get him cleaned up for tomorrow, then wrapped him in a towel, carried him to the bedroom and got him ready for bed. His father still wasn't home yet, and his mother looked around the room, with her hands on her hips, and she turned to her son and told him, "Johnny, I think before your daddy gets back we're going to have a little fun with him."

And with that, his small, petite, 'dainty' mother pushed the large bed, complete with him sitting on it, over to the other side of the room, and spent the next 10 minutes rearranging the furniture. And it worked, when his father came home later that night, he came into the bedroom, didn't bother turning on the light, and threw himself back on the secretary desk, making quite a ruckus as he did.

"Alright," he said as he found his way over to the bed and his wife, "What'd I do this time?"

"Made us laugh," she answered as she greeted him with a kiss.

For the rest of the night, Johnny slept between his parents, remembering instead the sound his father had made crashing against the desk, instead of Blizzard's heartbreaking death scene.

Hannibal pulled himself off the bed and looked at himself in the mirror, he was a mess. He went into the bathroom, took a shower, changed his clothes, and just as he was examining himself in the mirror again, the phone rang.

"Hey Hannibal," Face said, the whine already present in his tone, "I thought you were going to be joining us for dinner tonight, you know what time it is?"

Hannibal smirked and replied, "Just keep my appetizer out of B.A.'s line of vision, I'll be there in 15 minutes."

"Hey Hannibal," Face told him, "Nobody's seen you all day, where've you been?"

"I had to get my rubber suit let out," Hannibal answered, "Last guy who played this lizard must've been 90 pounds soaking wet."

"Bad joke," Face said, "Alright, we'll wait on you, _as usual_."

Hannibal hung up and went to grab his jacket. On the way, he stopped and went back to the coffee table in the living room and looked at the old seltzer bottle resting there. The one his mother always kept filled with her favorite brandy. Well, one of them, she'd had to replace it after breaking one over an intruder's head. He removed the top and sniffed…if he tried hard enough he could still smell that stuff. He knew that he was going to have to find some way to explain and justify keeping all this stuff without letting on to the others why, but he decided he'd worry about that later. Right now he was going to go out and enjoy a nice dinner with the others, provided the MPs didn't crash in on them.


	26. Chapter 26: Parental Advice

26. Parental Advice

"I don't know, Hannibal, what do you think?" Face asked.

Hannibal multitasked between listening to his griping Lieutenant and walking around his apartment picking up the place and getting everything back in place. In all the years he'd been living in this apartment he'd never had anybody bust in and try to rob the place. Last night he got home just in time to catch two punks that had broken in and had ransacked the place. B.A. walked out the front door with two fistfuls of the intruders' jackets and escorted them downstairs so they wouldn't roll all the way down when they took turns beating the daylights out of them. And _now_ he was still in the process of picking everything up and deciding where it all went again.

Still, just to be ornery, he couldn't help asking, "What do I think about what?"

"Well _who_ do I go out with tonight? On one hand if I take Cynthia, then Allison's going to be upset with me, but if I take Allison out and blow off Cynthia, then we're going to lose our access to her aunt's beach house while she's off in Cancun which has been working as a _great_ hideout for us when Decker starts sniffing around."

"Then take out Cynthia," Hannibal told him.

"But if I do that, Allison's just likely to knock my teeth out."

"And I certainly don't want to pay for _that_ again," Hannibal replied, "So take Allison out."

"Aw but Cynthia's got so much more to offer…" his hands found his way to the general direction of his chest and subliminally they said it better than he was, "You know what I mean, Hannibal?"

Hannibal took the cigar out of his mouth and asked Face point blank, "Does she have a receipt?"

"Hannibal!"

"Alright, Face, why don't you take one out at 7, and then call it an early night and take the other one out at 10?"

Face looked like a light bulb just went off, "That's a great idea, Hannibal, I don't know why I didn't think of it."

"Oh good, now you can get out of here and let me put my home back together," Hannibal lightly remarked, "_Unless_ you'd rather stay and help."

"No thanks," Face said.

"I thought not."

Face got to the door and tried to get out _just_ as Murdock came up and tried squeezing his way in past the Lieutenant. They were stuck for a few seconds before each finally got through to the other side, and Murdock called over to the Colonel, "Hannibal, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Hannibal turned and looked at him, his eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he commented, "I seem to be very popular in that area today…what's _your_ major malfunction, Captain?"

"Oh well that's hard to specify, Colonel," Murdock said.

"Alright…your _minor_ malfunction," Hannibal said as he continued getting everything turned back on the right side and picked up from the floor.

"Oh, I have more of those, Hannibal," Murdock told him.

Hannibal turned to him with a slightly annoyed look on his face and asked him, "What is it you wanted to ask me, Murdock?"

"Oh…well, it's kind of hard to explain, Colonel," Murdock said.

Of course that didn't stop him from trying. He ran the whole thing by Hannibal once, who listened without interrupting, as he continued going around his apartment, picking up things here and there one by one and putting them away.

"So what do you think, Hannibal?" Murdock asked.

"I'm not sure I get what your problem is," Hannibal said.

"Well…I'm just not sure what to do," Murdock said as he ground the toe of his sneaker back and forth against the floor, "I mean I'd like to take Jean out to someplace nice for a change…something a bit fancier than usual. I really feel like a heel, Hannibal, you know? I mean all this time and I never realized…how is it possible to get married, and then get divorced…"

"Annulled," Hannibal corrected him.

"Annulled," Murdock repeated, "And now…we've been living together for all this time, and we're engaged to get married again, and we have _never_ been on a single date. It's just unbelievable."

Hannibal nodded, "That it is…I _know_ you guys have gone out before."

"Oh sure, but it's never been anything official," Murdock told him, "I mean we go out…we've gone out to movies, we've gone out to amusement parks, we've gone out to the beach…but that's always been casual, you know? It's never really been anything romantic."

"So what does Jean say about it?" Hannibal asked as he picked up a throw pillow from the floor, fluffed it and put it back on the couch.

"Oh you know how she is, she doesn't complain," Murdock answered.

"Are we talking about the same woman?" Hannibal asked.

"Well not about this anyway," Murdock explained, "She don't say anything..."

Hannibal shrugged, "Maybe she's happy with the way things are."

"Well I'm not," Murdock told him, "I don't want it to seem like I'm ashamed to be seen in public with her, she's going to be my wife, I want to take her out somewhere nice."

"Maybe it's Jean who doesn't want to be noticed," Hannibal suggested, "Despite the attention she tends to draw to herself she seems to prefer being left alone."

"Well I still don't like it," Murdock said, "Face takes hundreds of women out and wines and dines them, and none of them mean anything to him like Jean does to me."

"So do the same thing with her," Hannibal told him, "I think I've got the name of the restaurant Face is taking his girlfriend to tonight…no, on second thought, better _not_ do that, Jean sees Miss Plastique, starts shooting her mouth off, all of you will get arrested."

Murdock reached a hand back and scratched the back of his head and said, "I'm just not sure what to do, Hannibal."

Hannibal thought about it and said, "I'll tell you what, Murdock…I want to get everything picked up here today…tomorrow night, why don't you send Jean over here, and I'll talk to her a bit and see what I can find out?"

Murdock looked hopeful, "That might be a good idea, Hannibal, thanks."

* * *

"Look, B.A.," Hannibal said as he stretched the phone cord as far as it would go so he could maneuver around in the kitchen as he got dinner ready, "You know when to trust your own judgment, do you think somebody's hitting this girl? Do the bruises look like handprints? Do they look like something that could've been used to beat her with? …Alright, so what I'd suggest is tomorrow you keep her at the center, until somebody comes to pick her up, and when they do, you ask them how she got those bruises, you know when somebody's lying to you…B.A., I am insulted," he replied mockingly, "Now you know I have _never_ lied to you…okay, aside from those 47 times…uh huh…alright, goodbye."

Jean was seated at the kitchen table with a hunk of extra dark roast meat on her plate that she had sawed and chipped off of the main course and was hitting it with her knife to see if there was any soft spot in it. When Hannibal joined her at the table she asked him, "What book was it…_Wuthering Heights_, where the husband complained that his wife's roast was completely raw on one side, and burnt to a crisp on the other? Sounds like using a microwave, and both would be an improvement over this."

"There's _nothing_ wrong with the meat," Hannibal told her as he sat down across from her, "This is top grade bottom round steak."

"Okay, _you_ eat it," she said.

Hannibal cut a piece off onto his own plate, cut off a small piece for his fork, and after he put it in his mouth, his eyes grew to twice their size as he took in the full burnt taste of the meat.

"You know if you'd get a crock-pot this wouldn't happen," Jean said as she picked up her slice and dunked it in her glass of water and let it soak, "It's a known fact meat burns dry in ovens, as long as crock-pots are well watered your meat turns out tender enough to fall apart."

Hannibal managed to swallow his piece and said, "Well it's just like Mother used to make…it stinks."

Jean smirked, "Your mother didn't know how to cook?"

"Not very well," Hannibal said as he took a drink to get the charred taste out of his mouth, "When she was growing up she wasn't taught how to cook or clean or sew…she learned how to sing and dance and juggle knives." He caught the inquisitive glance from Jean and explained, "She did a brief stint in a circus, used to ride around on the elephants."

"Elephants eh?" Jean replied as she raised one eyebrow.

"Whatever made money," Hannibal said by way of answering, "And whatever she could do, truth be told there wasn't a lot of _normal_ stuff that she was qualified for."

"I guess it's hereditary," Jean told him.

"Ha-ha," he dryly remarked, "Anyway…she didn't do much cooking until after she and Dad got out of vaudeville, and married, and had me…so I'd say she didn't learn to cook until she was about 30…and even then it took her a few years to get it right. So we just spent a lot of dinners eating hot dogs and drinking beers."

Jean chuckled under her breath. They managed to make the most of the meal by eating around the meat, as dinner started to wind down, Jean looked across the table at Hannibal and started to say what had been on her mind all evening, "Hannibal, _why_ am I here?"

He looked at her and said without missing a beat, "Because Murdock's staying at Face's for the night and I don't want you alone in that house."

Jean rolled her eyes and pushed back her chair to get up, "Come on, Hannibal, don't start that again."

"There's more to it than that," he said as he followed her out of the kitchen, "I want to talk to you."

Jean stopped by the couch and turned back to him and asked, "About what?"

He cautiously made his way over to her and explained, "The other night when you were here, after we got back from that mission, we never finished talking."

Jean shook her head, "Nothing left to talk about, Hannibal."

"I think there is," he went over to her and stared her down, "Now sit down."

Jean looked at him for a minute, as if deciding to make a break for it, then she threw herself back against the couch and sat down.

"You said," Hannibal told her as he sat down beside her, "That I didn't want you two married…that's not entirely true. You have to understand we'd never been in a position like that before, _any_ of us, Murdock had certainly never been propositioned for marriage before, you sprang that on us out of nowhere."

"That was the idea," Jean told him, "Decker knew it couldn't possibly have been anything _you_ cooked up because you weren't in on it."

"I know, but you might as well have hit us all in the head with a 2 by 4 when you announced that you two had gotten married. We didn't have any idea what the hell was going on, it was a lot to take in all at once. I probably jumped to a few conclusions and gave you the wrong impression, I'm sorry…I saw how Murdock was when he was married to you, regardless of why you did it, it was a good thing you did for him. And if you two _are_ intent on getting married again, then I'm happy for both of you." He noticed that she didn't respond to that and he added, "And _that_ brings us to the other thing."

He could tell by the look on her face that she knew what he was talking about, but all the same she asked him, "What?"

"Jean, I've noticed over time that you seem to keep coming up with reasons why _not_ to get married, and always done so as to look like consideration for Murdock."

Jean said nothing, just pulled in her bottom lip and bit down on it. Hannibal scratched his nose with the knuckle on his thumb and said, "Jean, if there's someone else in this picture…"

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him like he just grew tentacles, "How could you say something like that?"

"Well if it's not _that_…then what is it?" he asked, "First you said that he'd be better off with Amy, and then you said he'd be better off with someone who was nicer than you are, and now you've been talking about someone who doesn't face as many risks health wise."

"Well what do you think?" she wanted to know.

"The truth? I think you've got cold feet, it happens but that's usually the _men_ who try backing out of the wedding," Hannibal said, "Only Murdock's onboard with this and you don't seem to be as much."

Jean folded her arms and looked away, "That might be true."

"Jean," he said in a firm but understanding tone, "You got scared, that's natural, it's made you start second guessing everything, that's _also_ bound to happen."

"You're damn right I got scared," she told him as she turned to him, "You try being fine one minute and the next you can't move your feet, you can't lift your legs, you can't curl your toes, you can't do _anything_ from the waist down, and whatever it is it lasts all night and you spend every minute wondering if this is permanent, _you_ try that sometime Hannibal and tell me if you get scared."

"Jean, I understand," he told her, "Alright, you got scared, but why would you think Murdock would leave you if that happened?"

"Hannibal, I'm scared to death of something like that happening again, and never being able to walk again, _and_ being alone for the rest of my life because of it, but I'm more worried of Murdock wasting his life taking care of me, he doesn't deserve that."

"Nobody does," Hannibal replied, "But they do it, it's one of those things that comes with loving someone. Jean, if something hap…"

"Oh please, Hannibal, don't give me that shoe on the other foot routine, yes if something happened to Murdock and he was paralyzed for the rest of his life _yes_ I would take care of him. It would be hell, for both of us, but I would do it, but you would too, wouldn't you?"

"Of course we would," he told her, "But we would also do the same if it was you."

She shook her head, "I don't think so…I think the three of you would start coming around less and less often, it would slow everything and everybody down and that's not an option with the Team."

"Jean you keep forgetting something," Hannibal told her, "We _are_ a Team, but we're a family first, and family takes care of each other."

Jean huffed and said, "Just tell me something, Hannibal…_what_ did Murdock ever see in me?"

"Why're you asking _me_?"

"Because you know him better than I do, and I can't get a straight answer out of him."

"Well…it's hard to explain, you two always had some kind of connection even when we first met…you're the _only_ other person who can actually see Billy…I'm _still_ not sure what to make of that exactly…"

"You know he could do a hell of a lot better than me."

"Of course he could, he could find a dozen woman who are a hell of a lot nicer, _and_ a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than you are, and _far_ easier to get along with and to live with in general…but he doesn't want any of them, for some strange reason he wants you," Hannibal told her.

"Boy you really know how to sweet talk a girl, don't you?" Jean sarcastically replied.

Hannibal chuckled and told her, "I believe in honesty…and since we're on the subject, I still remember the first thing I thought when your mother shows us your picture."

"Which was?"

"Not particularly good looking by any means," Hannibal answered with a coy smirk.

Jean picked up the pillow behind her and swung it at him.

"Hannibal," she said seriously, "You know I have a hard time apologizing for things, even when I know I'm wrong…"

"Is that what this is about?"

"It's part of it," she looked at him, "When we were first married, I told you that I wasn't going to be in your way, that I wasn't going to come between Murdock and the rest of you…and I didn't mean to but I know I did…I'm sorry for that."

"It happens when you're in a relationship," he told her, "I know that, and I anticipated it…" he moved over to her and pulled her towards him, her neck resting in the crook of his arm, "You're a good kid, Jean, and I'm going to enjoy having you in this family."

"Thanks, Hannibal," she said.

"Now that we've gotten that straightened out, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about, regarding Murdock," he said, "It's recently come to his attention that the two of you have never been out on a date and he wants to rectify that."

"What?" she asked, "What you mean like when Face goes out with some perky bimbo to some high priced restaurant where they serve $500 bottles of wine and everybody's dressed like they escaped from a Hollywood press party?"

"Nothing like that, but just something that gets you two out of the house together and makes it an official night out," Hannibal said, "You have to realize Murdock's been cheated out of a lot due to his staying at the V.A. and I'm sure he's as anxious to have a night on the town with his girl on his arm as the next guy."

Jean sighed and said, "I'll try, but I make no promises…you forget, Hannibal, this is all new to me too, I never dated before, I never liked anyone before."

"For some reason, I can believe that," Hannibal told her, "Murdock is a one of a kind and _does_ have a certain kind of charm to him."

* * *

Hannibal picked up the large bowl of hot popcorn and carried it in one hand and the two cans of soda under his other arm.

"The pop's cold…you like cherry, right?" he asked as he handed one to her.

"Yeah," she answered, "So what's this movie on tonight?"

"It's the first Aquamaniac movie," Hannibal said.

Jean rolled her eyes, "Oh boy."

"Be nice, you haven't seen it yet," he told her.

"I haven't bitten into a lime either but I still know it's sour," she replied.

He sat down beside her, "Oh come on, give it a chance."

"Exactly _what_ possessed you to ever start doing these movies?" she wanted to know.

"Well it's a job."

"So's being a Playboy bunny but I don't see you volunteering for that…thank God," Jean replied.

Hannibal chuckled. Then he stopped laughing and frowned, "Oh darn, looks like the channel's out tonight."

"Guess we'll have to find something else," Jean said, "Maybe an _actual_ horror movie."

As it turned out there was. Hannibal didn't remember falling asleep during the movie but when he woke up, that channel had also gone to snow for the night, the popcorn bowl was just about empty, the Coke cans were sitting on the table, and Jean was asleep with her head in his lap. Hannibal stroked his hand through Jean's hair that had finally grown back enough to look semi-normal with another trip to the barber. Hannibal craned his neck and saw by the clock on the wall that it was 1:45 in the morning. He didn't think he was going to get off of the couch without waking Jean, and he didn't think that she would be waking up, so he carefully maneuvered his legs up onto the couch, under Jean. It worked, so at least they could both lie down to sleep for the night. With one hand, he grabbed a blanket off the top of the couch and draped it over both of them. Even being a surrogate father to grown children was exhausting work, _but_, he thought as he glanced down at the sleeping girl, it was worth it. Certainly how could he ever disappoint any of the adorable faces of _these_ children? He fell asleep chuckling to himself at the thought.


	27. Chapter 27: D-Date

27. D-Date

"Hey Hannibal," Jean said into the phone receiver, "Sorry to bust into your date with Maggie, just a word of warning if you guys were planning to come back here. Murdock and I have commandeered your apartment and I think we're going to be staying here for the night."

"I thought you two had a date tonight," Hannibal replied from the other end of the line.

"_Had_ is right, it's over," Jean told him, "And I for one am relieved."

"What happened?" he asked.

"You name it," she sighed, "We didn't get past dinner though, the cops showed up and we had to leave, so we came back here, nobody would look for us that way." As she talked, she picked up a dish towel she'd draped over the couch's arm and used it to brush dry her hair, still wet from her shower.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Well," she replied, "The food was lousy, the prices were outrageous, and the rest of the people there were perfectly rude, I'm glad the night's ruined."

"What happened?"

"Oh…I'll tell it to you when you get back," she told him.

"Where's Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"In the shower, we left that place wearing a better part of the dessert tray," she answered.

"Well that doesn't necessarily make it a _bad_ date," Hannibal replied.

"Maybe not for one of _yours_," Jean said, "Anyway, we're just going to stay here for the night, we'll be out first thing in the morning."

"No rush," Hannibal told her.

"Alright, bye," Jean hung up.

Jean closed her eyes and let out a long breath, then got up, went over to the bathroom door and called in, "Come on, Murdock, how long does it take to rinse lemon meringue out of your hair? Especially given you don't have a full head's worth."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Murdock replied through the door.

Jean pounded on the door and goaded, "Come on, you've been in there longer than it takes Face to go through his nightly beauty ritual."

The door opened and Murdock stepped out with his hair slicked back from washing, dressed in a pair of black pajama pants and a white T-shirt, looking like he'd just come through a particularly _bad_ session of electroshock therapy.

"You alright, Murdock?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered with a mope, "I'm just sorry that the first time we go out on a date, it has to end like this."

Jean shrugged, "It was a lousy restaurant anyway, the food fight was the highlight of the evening, hey, at least we didn't get stuck with the bill."

"Yeah…but I'm sure Decker's not going to be too happy with getting stuck with it either," Murdock said.

Jean shrugged again and said, "At least you didn't use your own name."

He smiled at her sadly and said, "I'm sorry, Jean."

"Hey, I'm just glad to be out of there," she replied, "I didn't like the way those people were looking at us in the first place. You _know_ that they didn't think we had any right being there…" she snorted and sneered, "But we sure showed them."

"Yeah," Murdock pinched his nose and said, "But I think I'm going to be blowing mousse out of my nose for the next week."

"That ought to make it really interesting when you sneeze," Jean said.

They sat down on the couch and each let out a collective sigh.

"Talk to Hannibal?" he asked.

"Yeah, he said we can stay here tonight," Jean told him.

"Good."

Jean turned to him and smiled, she reached a hand behind him and felt through his hair that was still somewhere between soaked and damp. Murdock didn't pay any attention to it and just let out a particularly loud groaning sigh.

"At least it wasn't _your_ first date," Jean said, "I'm sure you've had a lot that made it all the way up to…come to think of it, what _was_ the time you got back from a date when you were younger?"

"Oh…that usually depended, on where we went…and how long it took to get there…and if her father would either be asleep or up on the porch waiting with a shotgun by the time we crawled home," Murdock told her.

Jean laughed and turned to put her feet up and put them over his lap.

"Your feet hurt?" he asked.

"Yeah, stepped on a large rock sticking out of the sidewalk, gonna have a nice stone bruise for a while," she said, "My dogs are still barking from Hannibal's training course."

Murdock nodded and grabbed one foot in his hands and started to massage it.

Jean looked at him and laughed and said, "You must've been a riot to go out with when you were a teenager."

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Because I'm just figuring in between the Thunderbirds, and your two missions for the CIA, _and_ Vietnam, _and_ then the V.A., that you haven't dated much _since_ you were…18, 19?"

"Boy you really know how to hurt a guy," he jokingly remarked.

Jean smiled at him and said, "I had a good time tonight…it was especially funny when you liberated the lobsters from their tank before they cooked them."

Murdock smiled in return and replied haughtily, "That's one small step for lobsters, one giant leap for mankind, the day that we look to our crustacean brethren and say friends, not food."

"Well and besides, they're absolutely tasteless," Jean replied, "Now _crabs_ are good."

Murdock grabbed her other foot and started to rub it, but stopped and said, "Ooh, still like sandpaper I see."

"I'm on them all day, what do you expect?" Jean asked.

"Well so am I, but mine don't feel like that," Murdock pointed out.

"Oh yeah? Prove it," Jean told him.

"Fine," Murdock swung his leg over hers and stuck his foot near her face. Jean grabbed it and felt the skin on the bottom, and saw that he was right, but she ignored that fact and dug her nails into the skin, tickling his foot until he was laughing so hard the whole couch seemed to be vibrating, and Murdock promptly fell off and onto the floor.

"Hey," she told him, "Since dinner was ruined, why don't we see if there's anything here to eat?"

Murdock nodded and said, "Yeah, that sounds good."

She helped him up and they headed into the kitchen and ransacked the fridge to see if anything looked good.

"I guess Hannibal hasn't gotten groceries this week," Murdock told Jean, "About the best I can find around here is a couple cans of spaghetti and a pack of those refrigerated dinner rolls."

"Gotta be better than that brick he cooked in the oven the other night," Jean said as she dug a can opener out of the tool drawer, "You didn't miss anything there."

They got dinner ready and when it was dished up on plates, Jean told Murdock, "This don't look so bad, about all that's missing is a tossed salad and a bottle of wine."

"No wine," Murdock told her, "Some bottles of beer in the fridge."

"Good enough," she replied.

"You know," Murdock said as he pulled his chair out, "I think this is the first time we've ever sat at this table alone together."

"Fine with me," Jean said as she picked her chair up behind her and went over to his side of the table.

Murdock picked up a roll and had just bitten down on it when Jean leaned over and bit off the other half of it. Murdock checked to make sure she didn't get one of his fingers as well.

"Unfortunately," he told her, "This spaghetti's cut too short to try that."

"What're you talking about?" Jean asked.

"Didn't you ever see 'Lady and the Tramp'?" he asked her.

Jean shook her head, "Nope."

"Boy you're a weird one," Murdock told her.

"If that ain't the big scrawny pot calling the kettle broke," she replied.

"Ha-ha," he remarked.

* * *

After dinner, they relocated to the couch in the living room. But first Murdock jumped up and ran back to where they'd put their dirty clothes for the laundry, and dug through his dress jacket that he'd worn out to the restaurant, that was now covered in tapioca pudding and smashed ladyfingers. He finally seemed to find what he was looking for and went back to the couch and sat back down beside Jean as if nothing had happened.

"What's that?" she asked as she saw him unfold the paper.

"Look familiar?" Murdock asked as he showed it to her.

Jean looked and immediately recognized it as being a letter she wrote to him when he was still at the V.A. She tried to grab it from him but he quickly moved it out of her grasp.

"You still have that?" she asked.

"I kept all your letters," he told her, "You remember what you wrote?"

"Which one is it?" she asked.

"Listen," Murdock got himself comfortable, cleared his throat, and read, "Dear Murdock, I don't know if you remember me, but I certainly remember you, all four of you: Hannibal, B.A., Face…I'm still living in New York with my parents, I've almost made a full recovery. I've since been to a couple more doctors, they agree I was lucky both that the surgery was a success, and that I was taken to the hospital immediately. You saved my life you crazy pilot, and for that I will always be grateful, to all of you. I am thinking about moving soon, maybe to California…all I know is, even though it's summertime now, I can't take another winter here, I can't take the snow and ice and the short days and unbelievably long nights. How ironic that once all I wanted was so badly to come home, now I'm home and all I want is to break away. What a difference a year makes. Hope all is going well with you, how's the crazy hospital? I don't know if you'll write back, but I'll write again. Sincerely, Jean Rhodes."

Jean looked embarrassed, "I can't believe you kept those letters."

"Sure I kept them," he told her, "This was before…well, before everything, I thought this was the only contact I'd have with you, so of course I kept them."

"What a difference a year makes _indeed_," Jean said, "Who would've ever thought that this far down the road, we'd be in the position we are?"

Murdock put his arm around her and answered, "I sure didn't, and you know how wild _my_ imagination is."

Jean groaned and said, "If things have changed _this_ much in one year…just imagine what it's going to be like a year from _now_."

He looked at her and said assuredly, "It's going to be great."

A minute passed and Murdock looked at the clock, then to Jean and asked her, "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know, what do we usually do when we're alone for the night?" Jean asked him, "Just watch a movie on TV or something like that." She turned and looked at him and asked, "Murdock, did you have something to do with Hannibal calling me over here the other night?"

Murdock looked at her hesitantly and explained, "Well I went to see him to see if he had any advice about our little problem."

"Funny," Jean said as she moved back, "I wasn't aware that we _had_ a problem."

"Oh I didn't mean it like that," Murdock told her, "It's just that when I realized how backwards this whole thing has been…" he smiled and reached over and squeezed her shoulder as he added, "Look, Jean, I love you, and I'm the _only_ one on this Team who is _not_ being constantly hounded by the military, I think that in and of itself gives me a right to take my soon-to-be-again wife out to a public place for a date, when Face does it every night of the week with women who don't mean a thing to him, least of all not like you do to me."

Jean was left unsure how to respond to that momentarily.

"I guess I can understand that," she said, then shook her head, "Of course I really _don't_ understand it, we're _in_ public all the time as it is, and we really don't make it any secret that we're together, we just don't broadcast it either. It doesn't matter as much to me either way, _all_ that matters to me is that you _are_ here, after that, public, private, none of it means anything to me."

Murdock could certainly appreciate her honesty on the subject, but he told her, "I just don't want it to ever seem that I _don't_ want you to be seen with me, I never want you to get the impression that I'm ashamed of you."

"Murdock, if I was worried about you being ashamed of _anybody_ you keep company with, I think we can agree the first and foremost case would be with B.A.," Jean said, "Who wouldn't? A man wears 50 pounds of gold, earrings, and has that _crazy_ haircut, no dear, if I were worried about that I _know_ I'd be taking the backseat to _that_ mudsucker."

Murdock about fell back to the floor laughing at her comment.

* * *

"I don't think Hannibal's going to mind us using his bed for the night," Murdock told Jean as they made themselves comfortable in it, "It's certainly gotten plenty of miles on it besides his own and he ain't said a word yet."

"Mm-hmm," Jean tiredly agreed as she tried to go to sleep.

Murdock looked over to her side and couldn't resist calling over to her, "Jean?" she turned her head to look at him and he said again, "I'm really sorry about tonight."

"What for?" she asked.

"You know, for our date being ruined."

"Hmm," Jean forced her eyes open and said, "Seems to me that it's been a pretty good one so far…about all that's missing is the goodnight kiss."

It took Murdock a couple seconds to catch on, then he moved over to her side of the bed, hovering over her, leaned down and kissed her. This time it took a few seconds for them to pull away from one another.

"Been taking lessons from Face I see," Jean told him.

"Huh?"

"Your _first_ date with a woman and it ends directly in bed," she said.

Murdock laughed at the joke.

"Goodnight, Jean."

"Goodnight, Murdock," she replied, "I had a wonderful time tonight."

He smiled at her as he responded, "Me too."

A few minutes passed with each of them tossing and flopping around trying to get comfortable, but with no success.

"You can't sleep?" Murdock asked.

"No," Jean answered, "I'm exhausted, but I can't get to sleep."

Murdock reached over and patted her on the head and nodded sympathetically. Then an idea hit him, and he leaned over and said into her ear, "I'll read to you."

"Murdock," Jean groaned, "You can only hear Peter Pan so many times."

"No-no-no," Murdock reached under the bed where he remembered putting a new book the last time he was there and showed her the cover, "It's a true crime book on bloody murders."

"Good," Jean yawned as she shifted and laid her head against his chest, "Something nice and relaxing to fall asleep too…perfect end to a perfect evening."

Murdock looked down at her and laughed, then skipped ahead to one particularly ghastly chapter, as well as he knew Jean, she'd be asleep in 10 minutes.


	28. Chapter 28: Family Protection

28. Family Protection

"Hannibal, I really think you're wasting your time with this," Amy said.

"Oh be quiet and humor an old man, would you?" he humorously remarked.

Amy folded her arms and huffed, "I'm sorry I said anything to you."

"Whatever for?" Hannibal asked innocently.

"What for? I've been here for two days while you've had Face and Murdock staked out at my house, this is getting ridiculous."

"That's what we specialize in," he told her.

"_Hannibal_!" Amy snapped.

"_Amy_!" he returned mockingly, "Now you told us that some guy was following you once you leave work in the evening, maybe even found out where you lived, if he didn't already know that. If there's any truth to it we're going to find this guy and make sure he gets the hint to leave and don't come back."

"You really think that I could be in danger?" Amy asked.

"Do rattlesnakes kiss carefully?" Hannibal remarked, "Amy, this could either be because you know us, and somebody else knows it, or this could be for any of the controversial stories you've done for the newspaper. Or there's a third option and it's just a typical nut stalking the first attractive woman he sees who's not attached, either way you could very well be an easy target, _especially_ alone in your house."

"Well what if this guy doesn't show up? How long are they going to be there?" Amy wanted to know, "I have to get back and get a change of clothes eventually, you know."

"Somehow I don't get the feeling that whoever this guy is, that he'll wait for long," Hannibal told her, "You only noticed someone following you a few days ago, for all you know he could've been stalking you longer than that."

"And you don't think he's not going to notice that I haven't been there lately?" Amy asked.

"No, I don't, we've had a decoy going in and out of that house over the last two days, always good never to show her face," Hannibal explained.

"What decoy?" Amy asked, and then her jaw dropped when the possibility hit her, "Not _Murdock_?"

"Well, he's done in a pinch," Hannibal answered, "I was surprised to hear how well he can fit some of your clothes."

Amy looked mortified, "Hannibal!"

Hannibal shrugged helplessly and said, "We had to do something, and Jean couldn't pass as you, she's too short, also she's not built _anywhere_ close enough to look convincing."

"I don't believe this," Amy groaned as she paced around in a circle before throwing herself on the couch.

There was a knock at the door and Hannibal went to answer it.

"Speak of the devil," he said as he let Jean in.

"B.A.'s still parked on the corner watching everybody coming in and out of the block, so far nothing," she said.

"I told you, this guy's not going to show up," Amy told Hannibal.

"Well, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Jean said, "I noticed one guy in the middle of the block when I was leaving, he's got his eye on the place pretty hard, I think he's waiting."

"Doesn't mean he's waiting for me," Amy replied.

Jean looked at her and remarked, "Doesn't mean he's not either, look Amy, a guy who follows you home from work every day, finds out where you live, it's not harmless. People think if a guy busts in and steals your TV, that's bad, if he steals your underwear then the cops don't think it's anything to worry about, but when they're after _personal_ effects, then it's worse because then they're after _you_."

"But nothing of mine has been taken," Amy told her.

"I know, I'm just saying, this guy isn't casing the place to steal something to fence, or he would've done it and been gone by now," Jean said.

"So did _you_ find anything, Jean?" Hannibal asked.

"Well it wasn't easy, but after checking with the newspaper records _and_ the cops, I found out that there are _no_ outstanding cases of breaking and entering in the private residences of single women that would warrant the possibility that this is a serial case. Makes sense to me, my guess is this guy's got a one track mind, but I think it runs so slow he can only acknowledge one woman, period, not just at a time."

"But _why_ would anybody be after me?" Amy asked.

Jean looked at her and laughed, "You're kidding, right? You're what…" she looked Amy up and down, "About 110 pounds? You're young, you're pretty, you live alone, everything about you says easy target to a _lot_ of guys, fortunately it's a far smaller amount that's actually going to try doing anything about it."

"As you can see," Hannibal cynically said, "She's had a lot of time to think about this, it's all she can do since nobody would ever be interested in her enough to try the same thing."

Jean stood straight with her chest puffed out and smiled proudly, "That's right, short, ugly and prone to biting is the new form of repellent around here. Though it works pretty well in New York too."

"It does?" Amy asked.

"Sure, didn't you ever see 'Hill Street Blues'? Remember that cop that was always biting people and eating onions? You'd have to be pretty dumb to mess with him, cop or no cop."

"Jean," Hannibal rolled his eyes, "Why don't you go see if lunch is ready yet?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," she told him, "I know when I'm not wanted."

"Oh wait a minute, Jean," Hannibal told her, "Just out of curiosity, if it was _you_ this guy was after…what would _you_ do to him?"

Jean looked back at them with a bored look on her face and nonchalantly asked him, "Before or after I bash his head in?" And with that she disappeared into the kitchen.

Hannibal pointed back towards her and told Amy, "And you know she can do it…_can_ you?"

"Hannibal, don't start."

"Amy," he pressed on, "This is a dangerous city, full of dangerous people, and you walk around practically wearing a target on your back. I'm not saying you're not capable of protecting yourself but I do think you could use a little help in that department."

"Like what?" Amy asked, skeptically.

"Well for starters, maybe it would help if we taught you some basic combat moves, that would definitely be the _last_ thing anybody looking to attack you would expect," he said.

Jean stuck her head back out the kitchen doorway and said to him, "Hey Hannibal," when he turned to her she added, "We were watching this show on TV last night, and the guy says women can use a lot of stuff in their purse to stab someone in the throat. How about it, Amy? You got anything like that you can use?"

Amy was dumbstruck, "Like what?"

"Oh…anything," Jean said as she came back into the living room, "Pencils, keys, a hairbrush…the guy even used a sucker, jab them with the stick and that's definitely gonna hurt."

"That's assuming you can get to it in time," Amy replied.

Jean nodded, "That's true but you face those same odds when you carry mace or a gun in your purse, or…anywhere for that matter."

The phone rang, Jean answered it while Hannibal talked to Amy.

"I like to think that you've already learned a lot from us, Amy, but if you're going to stay alive unfortunately you're going to have to learn a lot more probably," he told her.

Jean spoke up, "It's Face, they caught the guy."

They both turned to her.

"What?" Amy asked.

"Guy kicked in the door to your house and they grabbed him, they're bringing him over here now."

Hannibal turned to Amy and saw the color drain out of her face.

* * *

"I don't want to go through the trouble of bringing this guy up the stairs just to kick him down them again," Hannibal told the others, "So just bring him into the ground floor hall when you get here, alright, bye bye," and hung up the phone in the hallway.

Amy sighed as she pressed her hands over her face, "I can't believe this."

"I can't believe that you can't believe it," Jean told her.

Amy lowered her hands and looked at Hannibal in despair, "Nothing like this has ever happened before."

"You were lucky," Hannibal said, "Now it's not to say that it _will_ happen again, but you need to be more alert about it, Amy."

"I know, I know," she groaned in response.

They heard the van pull up outside and a minute later saw Murdock, Face and B.A. come in, escorting a young man in his 20s who looked slightly better than a common street hood. Everybody was sure to notice that B.A. was escorting the man in by an iron grip on the collar of the man's jacket.

"So you're the one causing all this trouble," Hannibal addressed the man, "Well let me make something clear to you, _and_ you may relay this message to anybody else who may be interested. You see this woman here?" Hannibal pointed to Amy, "This, is my daughter. And if _anything_ ever happens to her, you are going to have to answer to me," he moved over to Jean and added, "Her sister", moved over to Face, "Her brother", then over to Murdock, "Her brother", and over to B.A. and concluded, "And her little brother."

B.A. growled through the side of his mouth at Hannibal but kept his eyes focused on the intruder, who looked ready to pass out.

"Now, Jean," Hannibal turned to her, "I think that this gentleman might be convinced of us…but I think maybe you need to give him an example of what _you're_ capable of doing."

"Alright," Jean said, "Get me a steak knife, a barbecue fork and a bottle of ketchup."

The man's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out and hit the floor.

"Gee," Jean commented, "He took it better than I thought he would."

"Get any I.D. on him?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, right here," Face produced a driver's license out of his sleeve, "Ran a check on it, no arrest record so we can't determine if he makes a habit out of this stuff."

Hannibal took it and skimmed it over, "Alright…give Mr. Simone a little drink and escort him down to the police station and let the boys at the drunk tank have him. They won't hold him for long but at least we know Amy won't have _this_ little headache around for the next few days."

"What's going to happen then?" Amy asked, wide eyed in confusion.

"Well, he'll either stay away or he'll try it again, we'll run surveillance on your house for a few days after he's released, but after our little meeting I doubt he'll be that stupid."

Amy nodded uncertainly.

"It'll be alright, Amy, you'll see," Hannibal told her.

* * *

"I think Amy needs to get a boyfriend," Face yawned as he and Murdock sat down at the table in Hannibal's kitchen, "Get _somebody_ who can stay with her and the rest of us can go back home."

"I know that's right," Murdock said as he took a sandwich out of his jacket, "Jean's been staying with her for the last two days, I talked to her on the phone and she's about to go through the roof. Only break she got was when she managed to sneak away for a couple hours last night when Hannibal stopped by, and made sandwiches some to keep on hand incase she was gone for a few days."

"What is it?" Face was almost sorry he asked.

"Uh…" Murdock peeled back the bread, "I think it's meatloaf," and he did a double take when he saw how thin it was cut, "I guess we're about out." He looked around the table and found a package of saltine crackers and stuffed a few of them into the sandwich to give it a little more substance and tried eating it, it didn't taste better but it had a lot more crunch to it.

Face watched him trying to eat the sandwich in a cross between amusement and disgust and he asked, "I'm guessing the fridge is about empty again."

"I'm not sure but I think we may have a job again soon," Murdock told Face, "Apparently the store where Jean usually gets the groceries has been having trouble, they're not getting their trucks in on time, and the last few times by the time they come, all the meat and the milk and stuff like that's been spoiled, sounds like somebody's sabotaging the reefers."

"The _what_?" Face asked.

"Come on, Face, you know the CB lingo, refrigerated trucks," Murdock said, "It's not a chain brand company, it's all generic food so only a few stores get the merchandise. Could be trouble between dispatching and delivery, I've gone in with her, the last few weeks the shelves look a lot like Mother Hubbard's cupboard."

Face looked at him even odder now and inquired, "Just how much of the food you guys get _is_ generic?"

"Oh it's nothing like that, it's just as good as the rest, just cheaper and in less colorful packaging," Murdock explained. He couldn't resist getting a kick out of watching the Lieutenant's obvious disgust; a man who likes fine custom made suits and expensive wines and fancy cars, is not going to take kindly to finding out he'd been eating the second cheapest bread sold and reduced meat.

The front door opened up and Jean stepped in, looking like she just made a jailbreak, "That's it, I'm done, I wash my hands of this woman, I can't take it anymore."

"What happened?" Face asked as they got up.

"I can't stand Amy's place, I don't know how she can live there, it's so small and it's so _sickening_ how…how…"

Feminine?" Face asked, taking a stab in the dark.

"It's definitely something," Jean said as she sat down, "I've never seen so many pantyhose hanging around outside of a ladies underwear store." She looked up at Murdock and smirked as she added, "Got all her bras hanging on a line in the bathroom, fraternity boys would have a good time in there. Woman must have 30 pairs of shoes, just about all of them high heels, went through her closet when I got there to make sure nobody was hiding in it, for her own peace of mind of course, never realized how little _normal_ clothing she's got."

"What do you expect, Jean?" Face asked, "She's a journalistic reporter who travels the world to get stories, she's not Dear Abby. A woman in her position has to have a certain upkeep to her."

"She's got about as much upkeep as you," Jean told him.

"So did Hannibal come over and relieve your post?" Murdock asked.

"Nope," Jean shook her head, "B.A. came by, put some new locks on the new door, also reinforced the back door and checked the locks on her windows, says the place is as secure now as…well, as Fort Bragg, so unless she gets a Green Beret interested in her she ought to be alright."

"You sure of that?" Face asked, "I mean we shouldn't be expecting any phone calls in the middle of the night now?"

"It beats me, but if she does then we'll go over," Jean told him, "But somebody else can get my shift. If there's somebody actually there then I want to beat the hell out of him, but until then somebody can go in my place."

"You know, Jean, I'm surprised at you," Face said half mockingly, "I'd think you'd be very sympathetic to Amy's problems after what happened to you."

"Hey, the only reason those Cong soldiers busted into my house was because of _you_," she reminded him, "And I went back to my house right after it happened, I never had any problem with it."

"Yeah well you're a different type of breed than Amy is," Face replied.

Jean nodded, "That's right, I learned a long time ago that security is only what you make of it, it doesn't matter if you're indoors, outdoors, at home, in public," she looked at them and added, "It's a lesson we've _all_ had to learn the hard way…security's more…in the company you keep, who you can rely on. And if that's the case, what Amy's got on her hands ought to be Fort Knox."


	29. Chapter 29: Recession-Depression

29. Recession-Depression

"So did you ask them?" Murdock asked Jean.

Jean plopped down beside him on the couch and said, "Yeah, I asked," she reached into her pocket and pulled out several folded pieces of paper.

"What's that?" Murdock asked.

"You've heard the expression 'take a rain check'?" Jean asked and unfolded the papers to show they were certificates to the grocery store, "That's what they call these, 'want something on sale, we don't have it, we'll get it in _after_ the sale, so get a rain check and get the item _after_ the sale _for_ the sale price'."

"Oh boy," Murdock groaned as he took them from her, "This looks like a ticker tape parade."

"I know," she said, "So we've got rain checks for the bread, the butter, the orange juice, the bologna, the full length hot dogs, and a cube of Coca-Cola."

"Of them all we'll probably get the Coke first," Murdock said, "It says these are only good for up to 10 days from the time you get them, so what happens if the trucks don't come in on time?"

"Then the checks are null and void and we're right back where we started," Jean told him, "Did you tell Hannibal about it?"

"Yeah, I did," Murdock told her, "He said we'd look into it, but all we've found so far is that the trucking company that delivers the groceries is using trucks that are about 10 years old so it's possible their refrigerated units are conking out and the bosses are just too cheap to fix it, even though it would be cheaper than the cost of damages for spoiled merchandise."

"So maybe it's not an outside job," Jean suggested, "Maybe the boss is deliberately trying to run the business into the ground."

"Why would he do that?" Murdock asked.

"Maybe that's the next thing you need to check into," Jean said, "Find out what this guy is, where he is, what he does, if he's got his fingers in the pot on something else, it's not impossible."

"Well whatever it is, Hannibal suggested until we can get a definitive answer, that we just go ahead and shell out a little more money to buy the more expensive food."

"We can't afford it right now," Jean reminded him, "I lost about a week's work when we were all taking turns babysitting Amy, along with a week's paycheck, and you know it's been slow even before that." She rolled her eyes and added, "And that work I've been doing directory canvassing hasn't been doing much good either."

Murdock looked at her and developed a scowl on his face and he said, suddenly and excitedly, "Then we'll use _my_ money, damn it!" He sprang to his feet and the momentum knocked Jean back against the couch and she looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise at his sudden outburst. "Jean this is ridiculous, now you _know_ I've got more than enough money for both of us to live on, there's no reason why we shouldn't use it when we need it."

Jean didn't move from where she was leaned back against the cushions, and she didn't say anything at first, she just looked up at him and reached a hand over and grabbed his to get his attention. He took notice, and calmed down, and sat down beside her, collecting himself, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said, "Besides, we really can't do that either right now, not there anyway."

"Why not?" Murdock asked.

"Because everybody else has been thinking the same thing and since they can't buy what they can afford they've been going for broke and getting everything else," she said, "I don't like taking my business to another store, especially one in another part of the city, but with the way things are going right now it doesn't look like we have a lot of choices. A lot of the stores in the area aren't getting that generic food because of the trucks' problems, so suddenly everybody has to go out of their comfort zone where they've _always_ gotten their groceries from, and _hope_ when they go somewhere else that _they_ have it. I don't mind telling you Murdock, it's getting a little scary."

He looked at her and said nothing, he could tell by looking at her that she wasn't finished yet.

"You remember a while back you got freaked out by that nuclear war movie on TV?" Jean asked. He nodded and she continued, "That doesn't scare me, the part that did was before the missiles hit, when everybody was running around trying to get all the food they could and so the stores didn't have any, _that's_ what scares me because it hits home for me. See, a while back Hannibal asked if they ever had tornadoes where I lived, sure New York gets tornadoes. Oh, not like the people in the middle of the country, in Tornado Alley perhaps, but we still got them. We saw more than a couple of them in my time and I remember whenever we were put in a warning or a watch, everybody would do just that. Everybody rushes out when the threat is imminent and tries to stock up on everything they're going to need if they're stuck in their home, or without power for a week or so. You guys don't really do that here, do you? I know you guys get more earthquakes so it's a given to keep supplies on hand because there's no warning for those…where we were we really didn't get earthquakes, not _noticeable_ ones anyway…so people never felt as urgent a need to stock up in advance, it was always last minute. So I'm used to seeing the shelves empty, whole sections of food just gone, _and_ knowing the shelves at home likely looked the same way…but that was in time of a natural disaster, a statewide emergency, people running around in a panic because something could hit down and destroy their homes. Or...in the winter, it was the same thing when a horrible blizzard was coming and the power could be off for days or weeks. But now people are doing the same thing on a daily basis because for whatever reason those trucks are not getting through to the stores in time. If it's sabotage, if it's deliberate, if it's just rotten luck I don't know, but the same thing's happening here and it scares me. They're always saying we're in a recession, that we're not far off from another Great Depression, and if that happens, everybody's going to go hungry." She snorted and told him, "There won't be any Al Capones opening soup kitchens this time to boost their image, it'll be everybody to themselves."

Murdock nodded sympathetically, "I can understand that, Jean, but it's not going to be forever, in time somebody's going to figure out what the problem is."

"Yeah, maybe…but right now I'm wishing I would've used more of my last few checks for groceries that we could stock away, _but_, we needed to get the windshield replaced to the car, _and_ we had to get your teeth drilled and filled, show them to me again." Murdock opened his mouth and smiled for her, "_That_ was money well spent, and he smoothed them down nicely…_and_ we had to get the deposit in for the swimming pool if we're going to get it in before summer, and with the way the air conditioner conks out, we're going to need it to keep from frying in a couple months. And that'll be where the next checks go, to either fix that air conditioner or get in another unit that actually works."

Murdock nodded, "So I guess we'll just be eating light the next few days, nothing that hasn't happened before."

"I'll tell you, Murdock," Jean said, "It's not so much _us_ that I'm really worried about, we _do_ have a few things buried in the freezer we can fall back on. But we make a good living and we're having this much trouble getting groceries, think of all the people who don't do as well as we do and have a lot more mouths to feed, particularly young ones."

Murdock nodded again, "It's an ugly truth to face, before this situation gets better gonna be a _lot_ of hungry people around here."

Jean laughed and told him, "I remember one time that the store was selling T-bone steaks, and even when they're on sale they're never a good price, something like $6-7 a pound, and they were big ones, thick ones…I go in and they're $2 a piece, it turns out that somebody in the meat department goofed up and put the price for hamburger on the steaks, and you better believe I bought every last one they had before anybody could catch on to the mistake."

Murdock threw his head back against the cushions and howled in laughter, "Too bad they don't make a habit of doing that, it would _really_ come in handy."

Jean laughed a while more before calming down and replied, "Honestly, who _doesn't_ take advantage of when the cashier makes a mistake? You know, register won't scan something, you tell them the sale price and it's the day after the sale, or it scans the sale price and you don't correct them? And so much stuff is all first come first serve, meat especially, anybody recognizes a good price, they won't wait around for everybody to get a piece, they all stack up as many packs as they can carry and walk out with them," she nodded, "I've done it a few times myself. Staying alive is no cheap business, especially in Los Angeles."

"Well," Murdock said as he took a small notebook pad out of his jacket pocket, "So what all _do_ we have on hand at the moment?"

"Let me think," Jean said, "We're down to half a loaf of bread."

"Uh-huh."

"Quarter pound of bologna."

"Yeah."

"Half a jar of mayonnaise."

"Okay."

Jean leaned back and looked up as she added, "About half a gallon of milk."

"Yeah?"

"Three tea bags and a pound of sugar," Jean added.

Murdock stopped writing and looked at her.

"Iced tea," she said.

"Oh," Murdock said, "Uh…" he looked at her again and asked, "How do _you_ make that?"

"One tea bag, a gallon of water, and one cup of sugar," Jean said, "Half tea, half water, and shake it up…though if things don't pick up soon I guess we can water it down."

"Why? How much can a box of tea bags cost?" Murdock asked.

"Last I checked at the store, they're $5 a box."

Murdock about sent his notepad flying, "$5 a box? Didn't the patriots throw it overboard for that price?"

Jean shrugged, "We can try the generic but I don't know if it'll be any good. Then there's the sugar, it's not on sale this week either, and what's left is about $3 a bag, not the big ones either."

"Alright, we'll worry about that later, so _what_'s on the menu for tonight?" Murdock asked.

Jean looked at the clock and moaned, "Don't have time to thaw that roast in the freezer."

"Hmm," Murdock said, "So I guess it's sandwiches when we get back."

Jean remembered something and told him, "We can't go back tonight, that bug bomb we set off is supposed to last for six hours, that's why Hannibal said we could stay _here_ tonight while he's off breaking in his new room at the house."

"Oh…then I guess it'll be sandwiches here, knowing Hannibal he probably hasn't picked up any groceries lately either," Murdock said.

"Just do me a favor and don't let them on to how bad it is," Jean said, "I know they're family but I don't want them thinking I'm an idiot about this whole thing for not being better prepared on this."

"Hey, the way this recession's going, nobody I know can keep their icebox shelves full, add that to the many times we've had to just pack up and leave because the MPs found us, we don't usually keep more food on hand than for a day or two unless it's foreseeable," Murdock told her.

They got up and went into the kitchen to see what there was. Murdock didn't sound hopeful as he asked Jean, "How do peanut butter sandwiches sound?"

Jean turned her nose up and asked, "Any pickles?'

Murdock checked the fridge, "No."

"I think I'd rather starve," Jean said, "Some things are not worth eating."

From out in the hall they could hear a ruckus of some kind, and they decided to see what was the matter. Murdock had just gotten the door open when Face came charging in and told them, "Shut the door, shut the door!"

Jean remembered that Face had mentioned having a date that night and she inquired, "What's going on, Face, playing hide and seek with your new girlfriend?"

"Nope, I'm just playing 'hide'," Face answered.

Murdock closed the door and asked, "What's the matter, Facey, your date not go so well?"

"Officially it's still on," Face explained, "But I'm ready for it to be over."

"What happened?"

Face groaned as he went over to the couch and collapsed, "Amy set me up on a blind date."

"Uh-oh," Jean and Murdock said as they looked to each other.

Face glared at them as if they'd known and held out on him, but he let it go and said, "She said that this was a great friend of hers, and that we would get along _just_ great, and that I would _just_ love her."

"Will you _just_ get to the point?" Jean asked, "What's the matter with her?"

Face rolled his eyes and groaned, "Oh my God, that woman is a regular 2-ton Tessie, she must weigh close to 300 pounds. And she's got about as much grace and charm of a charging rhino."

"And I'm guessing based on your behavior that she _really_ likes you?" Jean said.

Face groaned again, "That woman is like a magnet, everywhere I've gone tonight she's practically been stuck to me. I never thought I'd get away from her."

"So how did you?" Murdock asked.

At a crosswalk, she went one way and I turned around and ran the other, by the time she noticed I was gone the light had changed and she couldn't follow me."

Murdock checked his watch and noted, "It's barely even time for dinner, what all _did_ you have planned before you actually saw this woman?"

"Oh the usual, a little dinner, a little wine, maybe a little dancing and then…"

"Then back to your place and she can break the bed when she sits on it," Jean said, "I think I'd like to meet this woman."

"Oh too bad, you won't," Face said assuredly, "I lost her but good!"

From where Murdock was standing over near the door, he could hear a voice echoing down the hall calling in a singsong tone, "_Oh Templeton!_"

"Oh no," Face groaned, "How did she ever find me here?"

Jean and Murdock looked at each other, both wearing the same look of intrigue and curiosity and they decided to see how bad it was for themselves, so Murdock opened the door and called out, "In here, Miss."

And in came a woman who made the floor shake with every step she took. Perhaps she wasn't 300 pounds but she was well over 200, that much was obvious, and Murdock couldn't resist looking her up and down, as well as the oddly patterned dress she was wearing that looked like a holographic puzzle. The woman looked to be about 45 and had a head full of big reddish brown hair that was tied up in a bun, looking like the female equivalence of a silent film's 'heavy', the big, tall, burly men with black beards and mustaches who were the villains and foils to the good guys, who were always much smaller and more timid. They also noticed that she was clutching a large old brown leather purse against her, and it all had the gears turning in Jean's head.

"Templeton, you silly boy," she said as she went over to the petrified young man on the couch, "Did you really think I wouldn't catch up with you?"

"Are you his date, Miss?" Murdock asked.

The woman looked to him and said, "Yes," she grabbed his hand and shook it, and took the rest of him along for the ride, "My name's Marie Frances, how do you do?"

"Fine thanks," Murdock said as he managed to pull away from her, "My name is H.M. Murdock, and that," he pointed to Jean, "Is my…my…"

"I'm Jean Rhodes, we're engaged," she answered. She turned to Face and said, "You didn't tell us that you were dating Marie Frances, what's the matter with you?"

"You know her?" Face asked, but he was drowned out by his 'date' asking Murdock and Jean a similar question on how well they knew him.

"Oh Fa—I mean Templeton is a very good friend of ours," Murdock said, "He and I go back 15 years."

"How marvelous," Marie told him and hit him in the back, harder than she was aware.

"Were you two on your way to dinner by any chance?" Jean asked.

"Yes we were," Marie answered, "I have a table reserved at the Dresden tonight."

Jean looked at Murdock, and he returned the look but it was obvious he didn't get what she did.

"Oh Templeton," Marie said, "Why don't we all double up and go together?"

"What?" Face asked.

"That would be great," Jean said, "We'd love to go."

"We would?" Murdock asked, then repeated it with more certainty after Jean pinched him, "Oh we would…I think."

"Wonderful," Marie said.

"Our car's downstairs," Jean said, "If you'll give us a minute to get ready we can all head over in it."

"That'd be fine," Marie grabbed Face by the arm and said, "Come on, darling, let's let these two get freshened up."

"Thanks a lot, guys," Face groaned on the way out.

Murdock closed the door behind Face and asked Jean, "What's that all about?"

"That woman is a Hollywood cash cow," Jean said, "She backs movies left and right out of her own pocket, _right_ out of that purse she carries around, she can definitely afford to pay for two more dinners tonight, so that solves our problem of what to eat. And the word is when she gets a little tipsy she _really_ spends money like a loon, and she _loves_ wine."

"Well," Murdock started to grin, "Looks like tonight's finally starting to look up."

* * *

"I don't care how much money that woman's worth," Face said as they made their way back into the apartment later that night, "I have my limit!"

"And we've finally found out what it is," Jean told him as they came in behind him.

Murdock came in behind her grinning as he clutched two large paper bags in his hands, "Ooh boy, it sure was nice of her to pay for all this food."

"Not nice, lucky, it was lucky she had so much to drink so she bought your 'doggy bag for Billy' story," Jean said.

Murdock put the bags on the coffee table and started pulling everything out: artichoke hearts, cocktail shrimps, lasagna, steak and filet mignon, center cut pork chops, a few baked potatoes, and a rack of lamb that Murdock had taken the courtesy of removing from its rack before packing it away in his makeshift doggie bags, _and_ pieces of a cake that had come from the whole cake Marie had ordered right off the desert tray, and taken the liberty of eating the other half of. Murdock had done a good job of quickly dumping the food into a bag when nobody was looking, earning him some odd stares from the other people at the restaurant who must've thought he had a hollow leg or a tapeworm.

"I still don't know why you guys had to order all that food on top of what you ate at dinner," Face said.

"Come on, Face, we'll probably all die before we ever get back into _that_ restaurant and you know it," Jean said, "Well _we_ will anyway."

"Besides, we got enough food here to make a couple more dinners out of," Murdock added.

"Or, _one_ lunch for B.A. if he finds it first," Jean reminded him, "So don't let him see any of this stuff."

"Right," Murdock said.

Face rolled his eyes and said, "I still don't get it, _why_ did you insist on coming to dinner with us?"

"What, you didn't appreciate the company?" Murdock asked.

"Besides, I know of her, she's put up the money to finance a couple of movies I've worked on, _everybody_ at the studio knows about her," Jean said, "And it's certainly true what they say, once she got through that first bottle of wine she would've bought the whole prime rib if we'd suggested it." She went over to Face and slapped him on the shoulder and added, "And did you see the way everybody was so nice to us during dinner? If Murdock and I had gone in alone they would've kicked us out before we got a table, but they wouldn't dare do anything since we were her guests. That's what I like, I'd like it better if we could get treated like that on our own, but this was nice too."

"There's just one thing I don't get," Murdock said, "How did Amy _ever_ come to know her?"

"I talked to Marie, she said Amy did an article on her a couple years ago," Jean answered, "She still had her phone number."

"Well I _still_ don't get why Amy did that, why would she pair me up with that fat ox?" Face asked.

"Maybe revenge for something you did to her previously?" Jean asked.

Face looked at her curiously and asked, "like what?"

"Well…she is a _large_ woman," Murdock said, "Like a wild animal…animal? …Horses!"

"What?" they asked.

Murdock looked at Face and laughed, "I get it, I get it, Amy's finally getting you back for that trick you got on her in Arizona when we went to save the horses, remember?"

It took Face a few seconds but he finally remembered and he grimaced, "She sticks me with that water buffalo to get back at me for _that_?"

"For what?" Jean asked.

"I told you about that," Murdock said to her, "Animal byproducts, remember?"

"Could be worse, Face," Jean said as she turned to him, "She could've gone to the circus and rented an elephant."

"I'd _rather_ have the elephant than Marie Frances," Face told them.

"Yeah but then we'd just be getting peanuts out of this," Murdock said, "At least this way we got shrimp and steak to last us until payday, for once your ability to con people benefits us all, and you don't even have to do anything except sit there looking pretty."

"Isn't that what he _always_ does?" Jean asked.

"Ha-ha," Face dryly remarked.

"So," Jean slumped down on the couch beside Murdock, "What do you want to do now?"

"Ooh," Murdock rubbed his stomach, "I ate so much I don't think I can move…sure is a good feeling though."

"Yep," Jean replied, "One that's rare to come by anymore."

Murdock looked to her and started to tell her, "I still say—"

"No," Jean cut him off.

"Well," he looked at her, "Something better happen soon," he put his arm around her and said, "I don't want you getting too thin on me."

She looked to him and replied, "_What_? And wind up looking like you?" she shook her head, "Forget that."

Murdock chuckled and pulled her closer to him and said, "You know, I had a good time tonight, it got me to thinking."

"About what?" Jean asked.

"About we ought to go out on a second date sometime soon," he said, "Maybe it'll go better the second time around."

"I liked the last one we had just fine," Jean told him.

"I know, but I want to try something different."

"Oh joy, my life's falling apart with Moby Dick chasing after me and you two are being a couple of lovesick puppies," Face groaned.

"Just be glad she doesn't know where you live, Faceman," Murdock replied.


	30. Chapter 30: Wakeup Call

30. Wakeup Call

It had been a hell of a week. First, B.A. and Face had spent a couple days on Hannibal's hide-a-bed recovering from a cold that had knocked them both hard. Then, Hannibal had gotten a call to come and pick up Jean, who was reported as having a breakdown in the middle of the street downtown. When he'd gone to collect her he'd found out the cause, a most disturbing phone call from New York; Jean's uncle who had served in Vietnam had died. He'd taken her back to the apartment and let her fall to pieces in his bedroom while he tried to figure out what to do.

"They won't say how he died," she'd said in a brief moment of coherency, "That means he killed himself, doesn't it? If they're not saying then it's something terrible, but they wouldn't be tight lipped if he'd been killed…he _had_ to have killed himself."

"Don't jump to any conclusions just yet, kid," he'd told her as he held her in an attempted comforting embrace, "It's a bad time for everyone right now, they'll get the full details to you when they have them."

Murdock had been unreachable at that time so he'd only found out the bad news when he returned to the apartment later that afternoon. Though in the time before that happened, Hannibal had come back from the kitchen to find one side of the pullout bed empty, only Face remained, unconscious and covered in perspiration as he gradually sweated out his fever. Hannibal crept over to the bedroom to look in and was surprised as he saw B.A. sitting on the bed with Jean in his arms as she spent an hour crying herself to sleep. When she had finally succumbed to exhaustion and unconsciousness, the Sergeant had carefully laid her back on the bed and covered her with one of the blankets, and got up to leave the room and let her rest.

When Murdock was informed of what happened, he went to the bedroom and laid alongside Jean, watching her while she slept, the only real rest she'd get over the next few days.

Of course they all knew that this meant a trip back to New York for the funeral, but Jean's nerves had been frazzled, along with it seemed, part of her mind. She couldn't concentrate on anything for very long and had trouble thinking anything clear through.

"I can't go back there," she'd told them, "I just can't."

"I'll go with you," Murdock offered.

"You can't do that, Murdock," Face told him.

"Why not? She is my wife."

"_Was_," Face replied, "And in any case this would be a _hell_ of a time to spring that on her parents, or even that you two are dating."

"We'll _all_ go," Hannibal told the others, and when he had their attention he elaborated, "He was in Vietnam after all, right? Perhaps we knew him."

"We did?" Murdock asked.

"That's what we'll tell the family anyway," Face caught on, "It justifies all of us being there without having to explain too much."

Jean shook her head, "No, I just can't go back there, I _can't_."

"Jean," Hannibal had told her, "We'll be there, your parents will be there, it'll be alright."

"No, I just can't go to that funeral," Jean insisted.

It made sense but it didn't make sense. Murdock had taken her aside back into the bedroom and gotten the answer out of her later on, and then he tried explaining it to Hannibal.

"She what?" Hannibal asked.

"She doesn't want to create a scene," Murdock explained, "She's worried that she will."

"How many funerals has this kid been to?" he inquired a bit cynically.

Murdock looked at him apprehensively and reminded him, "Now's not the time, Colonel."

Hannibal looked at him curiously, then nodded, "You're right, Captain, I'm sorry."

With a little encouragement, Jean finally agreed to go home and attend the funeral, but first she had to go out and get a formal suit to take back with her. Murdock had gone with her but after trying on a few he'd had to get Jean out of the store as she broke down and started crying again. Finally it was decided that she would just wear one of Murdock's suits from when he went in disguise on a mission, he _did_ have a few formal ones for various occasions. Hannibal knew Jean would never survive a drive clear back to New York, so he had Face and Murdock get a plane, and got a syringe ready for B.A., and flew Jean back home.

The second Jean's mother had come out the door to meet them, Jean ran over to her and collapsed against her mother sobbing. That was much how things stayed up until the day of the funeral; Hannibal and the others had gone with them out to the cemetery, all dressed for the occasion in their Army uniforms for the proper sendoff. Jean's family wasn't a large one and apparently her uncle had few friends to come and see him off, so they had little to worry about somebody turning them in. Jean was seated next to her mother and father during the service, but Murdock left his place with the Team and sat down beside Jean when it was obvious she wasn't going to be able to get through the funeral alright. Jean buried her face in her mother's shoulder and the two women cried throughout the entire service, until it was time to leave and go home, then they cried the entire ride back.

Once they returned to the house, Jean locked herself in her old room and wouldn't let anyone in to see her. Murdock finally managed to gain access, though briefly. Though Jean refused much contact with anybody, it was obvious to Hannibal that she needed a few days home with her parents.

"You know," he'd overheard her saying to Murdock one night when the others were asleep, "When I was little I saw a lot of the old movies from the 50s where people got killed, and _always_ wondered how the rest of the people were able to just get on with their lives and resume business as usual after that happened. Always wondered…how could you get back to life as usual when _nothing's_ going to be the same again?"

It spoke volumes to Hannibal what bond Jean must've had with her uncle given that he hadn't been home since she was a little girl. After a few days, he'd met with her parents in the kitchen early one morning before the others got up and tried to gently break the news that he truly believed it was in Jean's best interest to go back to Los Angeles, saying she needed something to take her mind off of what had happened, and no offense to them, but staying here at home was only going to be a constant reminder to her. Mrs. Rhodes had broken down again, this time for having to lose her daughter again. Hannibal assured her they'd bring her back the next time it was possible, but that he honestly believed this was best for Jean right now.

The next morning, they said their goodbyes and took a rental car to the airport, knocked B.A. out again, got on the plane and started back for California. Jean had slept the entire way home, the first time she'd truly slept in days, this Hannibal knew. Even when they'd landed, gotten off the plane, back in the van and headed back into the city limits, Jean withdrew into herself and wouldn't speak to anybody the entire ride back. It was night when they finally returned to Hannibal's apartment, they'd only stopped once to get some burgers for dinner, Jean had taken two bites out of Murdock's but otherwise wouldn't touch anything. By now, everybody was tired, miserable, and just wanted to go home, but Hannibal felt certain it would be better if everybody stuck together for the night. By now Jean's eyes were practically tattooed red, as was her face from crying so much. Hannibal ordered her into the bathroom and into the shower, after relieving her of the funeral suit she'd worn the whole trip back, and told Murdock to round up a change of clothes for her. After sorting through everybody else's clothes for the next day, all Murdock was able to round up in the way of clean laundry was a pair of his pants and one of B.A.'s T-shirts that fit her about as well as a dress from Lulu Roman off of "Hee-Haw".

"Hannibal, what're we going to do?" Face asked, "I don't think she's even eaten anything in the last two days."

"At _least_," B.A. added.

Hannibal nodded, "I know…we'll worry about that tomorrow, once she's able to get a full night's sleep and calm down now that it's over, I'm sure she'll get her appetite back."

"Are you sure she will though?" Face asked, "I mean sleep all night?'

Hannibal took out a small bottle of pills and said, "If I can get her to swallow a glass of tea, I am."

Jean emerged from the bathroom after almost an hour, looking like she'd shrunk in the dryer with B.A.'s shirt all but hanging off of her. Murdock told her they were going to take the bed, Face and B.A. were going to take the pullout bed, and Hannibal would set up one of the cots on the floor. Jean was so far beyond the point of exhaustion by now that she didn't even reply to the sleeping arrangements. Murdock walked her into the bedroom and had them both settled in for the night in a couple minutes.

It had been hot that night and the building's air conditioning wasn't turned on yet so they'd opened all the windows in the apartment to let the cooler night air in or at least to get a breeze in and get the warm air moving around. The others hadn't been as bothered by it but Face couldn't get comfortable on the hide-a-bed and after a while felt his skin sticking to the sheets from the heat. He lay there at 2 A.M. looking up at the ceiling unable to get any sleep, only closing his eyes and waiting for enough time to pass that he would just drift off, but it never seemed to come.

And then…_it_ happened.

Face wasn't even sure what was going on or what he was hearing, all he knew was that one minute everything was quiet and the next his eardrums were exploding and he was jumping clear off the mattress of the bed before slamming against it again, and then falling off of it and onto the floor.

Murdock and Jean had both been sound asleep in the bedroom when they heard the same noise, and it shocked both of them awake as well and they shot up in bed huffing and puffing as their hearts about jumped out of their throats.

Whatever it was, it also woke up B.A. and Hannibal, the former who just sat up and looked frantically around the apartment to see what was going on, and the latter who turned his whole cot over and fell on the floor as well.

"What's that noise!?" Face screamed to be heard over it.

"What time is it!?" B.A. wanted to know.

Hannibal found a light and flashed it on his watch and told the others, "5 A.M.!"

The other two men groaned loudly as they got up. Jean and Murdock came out of the bedroom looking the way everybody else felt, and that's when they all got a chance to look at each other, and what a sight they all were: Face was tangled up in one of the sheets from the hide-a-bed and it covered him about like a toga, Hannibal was still on the floor in the midst of a tangled up sheet and a pillow that by now was halfway across the room, Murdock managed to get out of bed without bringing the covers with him but his hair was sticking up in different directions and Jean could barely keep her eyes open though they were the size of golf balls right now.

"What the hell is going on?" Face wanted to know.

Jean rubbed her eyes and commented, "I don't know, but it looks like a come-as-you-are party!"

Still none of them were able to tell what the noise was but as Hannibal got to his feet he was the first to make the deduction, "It's coming from outside!" and went to the window to see what it was. Nobody was able to decipher the origin of the sound just yet, upon immediately awakening it had seemed like a cross between the commotion during an earthquake, New Year's Eve, and whenever the city suffered from a riot.

The others followed him over and looked out and saw that there seemed to be a fight going on down in the streets, but they couldn't tell who was fighting or who was winning, or even _what_ the hell it all seemed to be about.

"That does it," Murdock said as he smoothed back his hair and put on his cap, "I'm going next door to complain about the noise."

"Me too," Jean said.

It was obvious from the looks on the others' faces that they felt the same way. Hannibal nodded and said, "Alright, let's go ask the neighbors to turn the music down."

B.A. grumbled as everybody found their shoes and put them on, "Get me up at 5 in the morning, I'm gonna knock those suckers into next week."

"Me too," Jean repeated.

"So Hannibal," Face said, "Any particular way you think we should go about this?"

"Yeah," Hannibal answered, "We knock their lights out with whatever we happen to have on hand."

"Works for me," Face replied sarcastically.

"_Me too_," Jean repeated.

"Alright everybody," Hannibal said as he gazed out the window once more, "Let's go."

One by one they climbed down the fire escape; Hannibal dropped down and landed on one guy's back, Murdock picked up a potted plant off a windowsill and dropped it on another guy's head, B.A. came up behind two of them and knocked their heads together, Face also tried jumping on someone's back but he got thrown off and in the process managed to knock a couple others down like bowling pins. Jean rushed one guy, ducked down, jerked his foot back and tripped him, then she jumped up as another guy tried to kick her and she punched his lights out. Hannibal kicked one punk in the gut and knocked him back against a wall and he lost his balance and fell into a trashcan, Murdock kicked another can onto its side and used it to knock the others down, B.A. picked one of the men up and threw him into an unoccupied trash barrel.

All in all the fight took about 10 minutes to finish once they got in on the action. And once both sides were temporarily shut down, the A-Team was able to get down to the cause of the matter and saw that it seemed what they had here was two groups of thugs from two new street gangs going at each other. Hannibal decided against calling the cops on them since that would just be a lot of standing around answering questions nobody knew the answers to, so instead they let B.A. deal with them and as a result, they all got tossed clear over his head and over the roof of a car nearby and all of them were left lined along the curb like the morning trash waiting to be picked up; after that it seemed the ruckus was over so they went back up to Hannibal's apartment.

Once they got back up to the living room, they all looked around at one another and laughed. It was obvious that nobody was going to be going back to bed now.

"Is anybody in the mood for breakfast?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes, but not if you're cooking it," Jean said in her usual cynical tone.

"And what's wrong with the way I cook?" Hannibal wanted to know.

Everybody had a suggestion to offer on that one.

"Oh be quiet," he told them, "Who asked you?"

Murdock looked at his watch and said, "There's a doughnut shop nearby that ought to be open by now, we can go out and pick up some for everyone."

"Sounds good," Jean said, "Let's go."

"Wait a minute," Face snagged her by the back of her shirt and asked her, "What're you going to get?" already dreading the possibility of what they might come back with.

"Well I figure a dozen glazed, a dozen twists, maybe some of those jelly donuts, a couple apple fritters, oh yeah and those big bear claws."

"They also make cinnamon rolls there," Murdock added, and said with one of his weirder smirks, "As big as your head."

Hannibal chuckled and said, "Well it sounds like a plan, just get a couple boxes of assorted stuff and we'll sort it out when you get back here."

"Right, oh…" Jean went over to Hannibal, hugged him and said, "Thanks for putting up with me the last few days, I know I haven't made it easy on anyone."

Hannibal smiled at her and replied, "It's like I told you before, kid, this is what family does for one another."

"Well I really appreciate it," she said, then turned to leave with Murdock.

Once they were gone, Face asked Hannibal, "What do you think? You think she'll be alright?"

"I'd say she's off to a good start," Hannibal replied, "At least she's not going through this alone."


	31. Chapter 31: To Live Again

31. To Live Again

A few days had passed since they'd returned home, Hannibal and the others had alternated in keeping an eye on Jean since she still seemed to be in the process of recovering from the shock of her uncle's death. With little persuasion, she and Murdock stayed at his apartment more frequently. The first few days Jean seemed to be fine and closer to her old normal self, but then Hannibal noticed a change in her. Maybe the weather was partly to blame, all week it was either cloudy or raining and it put everybody in a funk; but he noticed Jean either slept in late, or woke up earlier than usual and then fell asleep late in the morning or early in the afternoon and stayed that way until dinner was ready. He also noticed, and wasn't sure what to make of it, that she had also lately taken to falling asleep with Murdock's teddy bear, and even when she was asleep if she became separated from it she would grope around the entire bed until she found it.

Hannibal had asked Murdock if he had any ideas about it all, and the Captain had replied that he didn't. Of course Jean wasn't working right now, none of them really were, and once again the weather really _didn't_ help with that because their scenes were all outdoors work, so they were all in a bit of a rut; and Hannibal knew that while they didn't announce it to anybody, he knew that they _were_ having some financial problems. It seemed ever since Jean bought the games for Murdock's arcade room that no matter what she did, she wasn't able to put the money back for that. He hadn't gone as far to look through her bank book, or even in her mattress, but he was sure despite this, Jean still had a bankroll to fall back on in a pinch; all the same he'd been fired from the Aquamaniac movies 5 times over the years and while it wasn't exactly his dream job he did understand the frustration of losing a regular paycheck, the unfortunate truth was those had often proven to be more reliable than collecting the fees for their services.

One day when Jean was still awake for lunch, the phone rang. It was Jean's mother, all excited because she hadn't been able to get her daughter at her home for three days. Hannibal assured Mrs. Rhodes that everything was fine, Jean was with them, and promptly handed the phone to her daughter. Nobody intended to eavesdrop but they couldn't help overhearing certain parts of Jean's side of the conversation.

"No, Ma, I'm fine…yeah, everything's just going great here…no, there's nothing going on…_definitely_ nothing going on there. No, Ma, there's nobody…I, what? Who said that?" She rolled her eyes, "Well I don't care what Hannibal said, he's wrong…no, Ma, there's nobody here that I'm interested in, that didn't change just because I left New York…hey, the men out here are even weirder than back home if you can believe it, we got guys that dress like women, guys that dress like Tarzan, we got…" she looked B.A. up and down and said, "We got guys out here with more gaudy jewelry than Zsa Zsa Gabor."

Fortunately B.A. was standing with his back to her so he completely missed the cue that the last comment was about him. It was obvious from watching Jean that she was trying to get off the phone but her mother kept talking. As Jean replied to her she picked up one of the barbecue forks from the knife rack over the stove and tried ramming it into B.A.'s backside, but she pulled back a bent fork and he hadn't so much as blinked. Then she picked up a small paring knife and tried lightly jabbing him in the back with it, and still he didn't notice. Jean tried again, harder this time and all that happened was B.A. reached around and slapped his shoulder blade like he was swatting a fly. Jean was about ready to give up, she dropped the knife and reached out and grabbed his ear and twisted it, and that got him screaming.

"Oh B.A. just hurt himself, I have to go, Mom, bye!" Jean said as she hung up.

"Was that really necessary?" Face asked.

"Well I couldn't reach _you_," she pointed out, "I love my mother, but she just never wants to get off the phone."

"Let me guess," Hannibal spoke up and gestured with his cigar as he tried filling in the blanks, "Uh, 'when are you going to settle down?', 'When are you getting married?', 'I'm gonna be an old woman by the time I get any grandchildren'?"

Jean shook her head and wasn't able to suppress the small smirk on her face, "Na, my mom doesn't do that…I got lucky with her, she's never been pushy about me getting with anyone, and she sure as hell has never been in any rush for me to get married. I'm her only child, so she's tried holding onto me for as long as possible, it about killed her when I told them I was moving to California."

"So what was that about?" Face inquired.

"Well _somebody_ gave her the idea that I was seeing a couple of guys that I work with," Jean said, her eyes two sharp daggers aimed right at Hannibal.

He just shrugged innocently and replied, "That was back at Thanksgiving, we didn't want her finding out about you and Murdock so I had to tell her _something_."

Murdock did his best impression of a hurt puppy pout when he heard that. "And what's the matter with me?"

"You' crazy for one," B.A. replied.

Face tried to explain it better, "It's not _you_, Murdock, we just can't let her mother know that she's already been married and is now a single woman again."

"It wouldn't exactly kill her but it'd come a close second," Jean added.

In the blink of an eye, Murdock did a 180 turn and said nonchalantly, "Oh well that's different."

* * *

The phone call with her mother had gotten the liveliest response out of Jean in days, and _for_ days; after that she went back to staying in bed most of the day. Hannibal looked out the window at the gray clouds that seemed to completely fill the sky anymore and thought to himself that he couldn't blame her. Smog was one thing, but _this_ was enough to make _anybody_ take to their beds until the weather passed.

He went into the kitchen and found Murdock in there with a pill bottle in his hand and he seemed to be reading the label.

"Something wrong, Captain?" he inquired.

Murdock looked up at him and mentioned, "Maybe it's a vitamin deficiency."

Hannibal felt his eyebrows knit together, "How's that?"

"I was reading that people who don't get enough vitamin D when there's not a lot of sunlight, experience fatigue and even depression and if that," Murdock pointed a finger in the general direction of the bedroom, "Isn't depressed, then I don't know what is."

Hannibal shrugged and replied, "Can't hurt to try I guess, but good luck getting her to swallow those, seems all vitamins are just a bunch of horse pills anymore."

Murdock shook his head, "Oh no, these are gel capsules, go down easily."

"I should hope so," Hannibal said.

Murdock looked at Hannibal uncertainly and told him confidentially, "I don't mind telling you, Hannibal, I'm a bit worried."

"What about?"

"I've never seen Jean like this before…what if it's not a vitamin deficiency?"

Hannibal was able to hear the unasked question between the lines, _what if_ it was a problem that Murdock couldn't fix? That _none_ of them could?

"We'll take it one step at a time, Captain, we'll try this first and see if anything develops," Hannibal said.

Murdock didn't look convinced, but he nodded reluctantly in agreement.

"At least she hasn't taken to wearing her pajamas all day when she's in bed," he finally said, "Then I'd be _really_ worried."

"Why?" Hannibal asked.

"Because she can't stand wearing them," Murdock said, "What she said was something to the effects of 'too much like being sick', as long as she can dress herself then I suppose there's hope."

Hannibal gave a small smile and replied, "There's always that, Captain."

* * *

In part it seemed Murdock may have been right. A few days after Jean started taking the vitamins twice a day she started to stay awake throughout the day, though she looked halfway like the living dead and still didn't seem to have much interest in anything.

"What're we going to do with her, Hannibal?" Face inquired one afternoon when they'd come over to see how things were doing, "She can't go on like this much longer, either she'll go crazy, or we'll kill her."

"I know," Hannibal replied, "I've been thinking about it…maybe a good shock to the system would jerk her back."

"What kind of shock?" Face asked.

Hannibal smirked devilishly and asked, "You think she'd buy that I was cleaning a gun and it accidentally went off?"

"You can do better than that," Face told him.

"Still, something with a little blood is _bound_ to make her sit up and take notice," Hannibal replied.

"And once she realized it was a trick she'd beat the hell out of you," Face said.

"A reaction is a reaction, Lieutenant," Hannibal told him, "And right now I'd gladly settle for that over what we've been putting up with the last week. _Something's_ gotta happen soon, you're right, she can't take much more of this, and neither can we."

* * *

Jean had done better the last few days not to sleep any longer than was necessary, but this afternoon she just couldn't hold out any longer. Hannibal was out so she took the liberty of crashing on his bed for a while. If she'd actually fallen asleep during that time or if she'd only thought she had, she didn't know, but when she heard muffled sounds coming from the living room she realized that she was definitely awake then. She got off the bed and went to the door and looked out and saw Murdock talking to himself as he scribbled in a little notebook. Then he put it on the coffee table, got up and left the apartment. Curiosity got the better of Jean so she decided to see what he had been writing down.

She felt her heart start to climb to her throat when she realized it wasn't a notebook, it was Murdock's bankbook, the same one he'd showed her last December that he had almost $100,000 tucked away somewhere, and all written down in there. Jean flipped through the pages to find the latest entry and she felt her heart just plummet down to her gut. Two entries ago the balance had read $118,000, now the newest entry read final balance, $88,000. If what was written in this book was true, Murdock had taken $30,000 out recently, but why, and from where? Then Jean noticed the print on the top of the page and felt like she'd just stumbled onto something big; it wasn't a book from any California bank, it was stationed in Texas.

Jean got an idea, she went to the phone and called the number of the bank.

"Hello," she said, "Can you tell me if you have an account under the name of H.M. Murdock?" There wasn't, she tried thinking, and remembered that Murdock had planned to buy the house in his father's name, and he'd told her everything so she would know the answers if he wasn't around, "Alright, is there an account under the name of Max Murdock?" Pay dirt. "Okay, this is his wife, he forgot to write down his latest withdrawal in his records, can you tell me what his current balance is?" Ay-yi-yi. "Okay, thank you, goodbye."

It was official…somehow, for some reason, Murdock had taken $30,000 out of this account that he had and none of the others knew about. Now her head was spinning, what the hell did all of this mean? She looked through the book again and this time noticed the date the withdrawal was made. Almost a week ago, meaning however he got that money, he had to have gotten it by now. Jean turned and something caught her eye…Murdock's jacket had been left slung over the back of a chair in the living room. Jean didn't know where Murdock had gone or how long it would be before he came back, but now that she was in this far she couldn't let it rest, she had to know. She picked up his jacket and groped through the pockets, and found something. She pulled out two small, plain white envelopes, closed but not sealed, and stuffed full. Jean turned them over and saw something written on each one, and she swore she was seeing things. On one envelope was written 'In-Laws house', and on the other was written 'Baby X and Y'. She opened the envelopes, and counted, the first had $10,000 in it, the other had $20,000, all in $100 and $500 bills.

Jean heard the door creak open and looked up and saw Murdock standing in the doorway, and she knew the look on her face was one of utter panic, she didn't know what was going to happen now.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Jean asked him, "Murdock…what is this? What did you do?"

If he seemed surprised at her discovery, it didn't show for long, he went over to the couch, sat down beside her, took the envelopes from her and explained, "Remember we talked about finding a place out here we could move your parents to, so you could be closer to them? $10,000 is a pretty good down payment for a permanent residence, even in these neighborhoods."

"I haven't talked to my mother about it yet, I don't know if they will," Jean said.

"They will," Murdock nodded, "You said it yourself, you're her only child, she's going to want to be near you."

Jean reached over and fingered the second envelope, "And this one?"

Murdock had a little more trouble explaining this one without stumbling over it. It took him a few tries to actually get the words out as he told her, "Well, I know that we planned that if…when we got married, that it would be a few years before we decided about kids…but I decided if anything would happen and it'd be sooner than we planned on…at least we'll be able to afford it, that's always the big thing, having the money for it, after that everything else sort of falls into place."

Jean didn't know what to think of this and it showed on her face as she turned and looked one way and then the other and back again. "I never asked you to do this, _any_ of this."

"I know you didn't," he replied, "That's the idea."

Jean felt like she'd been slapped in the face, she closed her eyes and sighed noisily as she pressed her hands against her forehead. "I've been falling down on everything since we got back from New York, just let everything go straight to hell and it comes to this…"

Now it was Murdock who felt like he'd been hit. "No, that wasn't why I did this…it's just that after the…well, I've had a lot of time to think about this and I think it's time we put a little kinetic energy behind our plans, instead of putting them all off for a 'someday' that might not even come. I told you before, Jean, I've got more than enough money to take care of us for the rest of our lives, that includes moving your parents out here, and any children we have in the future, distant or otherwise."

Jean sat back against the cushions and folded her arms against her chest and she told Murdock, "I still don't like this…I _get_ it, but I don't _like_ it."

"I know you don't, but despite how big prenuptial agreements are becoming, separate-but-equal really don't count for much in a marriage," Murdock told her, "Eventually _everything_ has to comingle on both sides."

"But Murdock, this is $30,000 we're talking about here," she replied.

"So? How much did pulling that stunt with the game room set you back?" Murdock asked.

"That's irrelevant," she said.

"Then consider us even with this," he told her, "Look, Jean, I know you've been on edge because work's slow and money's tight now, we were already married once and when we were I took my role as your husband _very_ seriously."

"I know you did," she told him.

"Then let me do it again now," he told her, sounding annoyed at her stubbornness, "It's my job to make sure that my family is well taken care of, and I know you've been going around this whole time making a big show of proving you can do it for yourself, I _know_ that you can…but it's not just _you_ anymore, now it's both of us, so let me do this, please."

Jean looked at him for a minute before saying anything, then telling him, "I don't want _anyone_ getting the idea that I'm after your money."

"Nobody will ever have to know," he told her, "You saw the bank book…you are the only one, the others don't know about this."

"They don't?" Jean asked.

"No…look, Face managed to get a joint emergency account put away for us under an assumed name, when we get paid we each get our own cut but Face also takes a certain percentage of all of our shares and puts it away incase it's ever needed…as far as the others are concerned, one fourth of that account is all the money I really have, for all they know I probably spent the rest of it on 400 cheeseburgers or buried it in a can in the ground or…"

Jean stopped him and couldn't help asking, "Four _hundred_ cheeseburgers?"

"It's a long story," he told her, "See I get it that when we get married, we're still each going to have certain secrets that we keep from one another, that's just natural, my grandma always said that's what makes marriages work…but this is one I wanted you to know about, and to know that nobody else does, not Face, not B.A., not even Hannibal knows about this," he said as he picked up his bank book.

"Why'd you keep it a secret from them?" Jean asked.

"Well you never know when it might come in handy," he explained, "And when it does I want to be able to surprise them with it."

"They'll _definitely_ be surprised," Jean assured him.

He looked at her and asked with a small smile, "Well? Are we good on this?"

"I guess so," she replied.

"Good," Murdock leaned over and kissed her.

"I'm really sorry about the way I've been acting the last few days, Murdock," Jean told him, "Ugh…this has just been a nightmare."

He put his arm around her and pulled her to him, "I know, darling, I know." They sat like that for a few minutes before he said to her, "If you're open to suggestions…"

"Ye-e-e-s?" she replied inquisitively.

Murdock laughed and said, "I think it's about time we start showing some signs of life again, don't you?"

"Hmm," Jean looked up at him and asked, "You got something in mind?"

He looked like he was trying to come up with something before meeting her gaze and asking her, "What about that second date we never got around to having?"

Jean thought about it for a few seconds and nodded, "Yeah, sure, why not? Might do us some good to get out of here and spend a night on the town."

"Who knows?" Murdock replied, "Maybe this time we'll be able to make it through dinner without the cops showing up."

"I wouldn't count on that," Jean told him.


	32. Chapter 32: Date Night

32. Date Night

Author's note: Another chapter that ran long and had to be cut into two parts.

A couple of days had passed since Jean and Murdock went back to her house, and Hannibal sincerely hoped that they were doing better now than they were. The last he'd seen of them during their stay here, Jean was still spending her nights with Bogey in a death grip chewing on his ear.

Outside he could hear the rain beating down against the building and he was just thankful he wasn't out in it tonight. Even _he_ could only take so much in the name of testing potential clients, despite how much he loved annoying the others by seeming unaffected by just about everything that happened around them. And _tonight_ he knew, it was a particularly cold rain. They hadn't been in a heat wave yet but the precipitation tonight knocked the temperature down about 20 degrees, and anybody with a brain in his skull was enjoying the sight and sound from behind closed doors and windows in a temperature controlled climate.

He about hit the ceiling when he heard somebody knocking on his door, and instinctively he knew that it wasn't any of his neighbors. Now _who_ in the hell would be dumb enough to get caught out in the rain on a night like this? He opened the door and got his answer.

As soon as the door opened, Murdock and Jean about fell into the apartment, they were barely able to stand balanced and they were holding onto one another to keep their equilibrium and they were both laughing like a couple of drunk idiots.

"I'm almost scared to ask," he told them.

"Hi, Hannibal, can we come in?" Murdock asked loud enough for people buried in New Jersey to hear.

He actually considered it for a couple seconds, but then again what choice did he have? "Sure, come on in, guys," and he held the door open for them.

They came stumbling in and Hannibal saw they were soaking wet, it especially looked like they'd found some particularly deep puddles because their pants showed evidence of being completely submerged up to their knees.

"So?" Hannibal finally managed to ask them, "Do I even want to know?"

"We-were-on-a-date!" Murdock continued to broadcast at the top of his lungs.

Hannibal did a double take, how to respond to that one? He looked at the clock and saw that it was going on 9:40, whatever they'd been doing they couldn't have been doing it for long.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We got caught in the rain!" Murdock told him.

Hannibal decided to try getting an answer of Jean and seeing if she could do it any quieter and he asked her, "Are you two drunk?"

"We didn't get that far," she answered quieter but giddier, "Once again the cops showed up to bust up the fight at the restaurant, and we had to take off, we left my car behind in the parking lot in the middle of 30 others…thank God I left the top up."

Hannibal rolled his eyes, "This is getting to be a regular running gag…'A Pair of Tights' almost." He looked to them again and saw how wringing wet they were and asked, "So what happened after that?"

"Well…once we got out of the hot zone we just walked around outside for a while," Jean answered, "_Then_ it started raining…and after a while we decided to come here…"

Maybe they weren't _drunk_ but he could tell they'd had enough to drink to at least reach the 'tipsy' point. It was the _only_ logical conclusion for the way they were acting now. Then another thought occurred to him and it turned his stomach, maybe _this_ was what love actually looked like, _and_ sounded like, it was perfectly annoying.

He looked at them both and saw they were dripping all over the floor _and_ that despite their best efforts, they were both shaking with the cold. He also noticed, for the first time really since they stepped in, that they were not dressed as they usually did. Murdock didn't have his jacket or his cap with him and he was barefoot, Jean also didn't have any shoes on and she was wearing a pair of Capri jeans, thus sparing her from about 4 inches of sopping wet material hugging her legs down to her ankles. Again, he was almost afraid to ask, and decided ultimately that he wouldn't, wherever they'd left their shoes he was sure they'd find them sometime tomorrow. In the meantime he suggested to them that they take a hot shower while he rounded up a change of clothes for them to wear until tomorrow.

When Hannibal came back from the bedroom, he was momentarily worried when he saw the living room was empty, he'd assumed that they'd gone back outside, but then he heard the sound of the shower running.

"Uh-oh."

He might've been overstepping his bounds but he decided it was better to make sure nothing had happened that would turn ugly when the booze wore off the next morning, _or_ that somebody slipped and cracked their head on something and was succumbing to a brain hemorrhage. He went to the bathroom, listened at the door, then went in and was relieved to see that Murdock was half sitting, half lying on the floor with a towel wrapped around him like a blanket, gratefully inhaling the steam coming from behind the shower curtain while he waited his turn. Hannibal let out a whistled sigh of relief and backed out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

Murdock kept nodding off and just about fell asleep when he jerked back up again and tried to stay awake, but he found the heat very sedating and kept starting to slip under when he sat up again. After a while he noticed the water was still running and he called behind him, "Everything alright?"

"Water's hard tonight," Jean called out from behind the curtain.

"Oh," Murdock tiredly got to his feet, went over to the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of moisturizer that Face kept on hand for when he stayed a couple of days to maintain his soft skin after his bubble bath, _ohhhh_ the things Murdock could bring up whenever Faceman had a date…ah, but he was too nice to do something like that…or _was_ he? Hmmm…

He heard the water shut off and he got his mind back to what was going on now, he picked up a towel from the rack and took it over and tossed it over the curtain rod for her to grab.

"I hope Hannibal found something we can wear," Jean said as she pulled back the curtain and stepped out wrapped in the towel, which looked so big on her she looked like a midget that escaped a sauna.

"I'm sure he will," Murdock told her as he handed her the bottle, "This ought to help with the hard water."

Jean grabbed a fistful of her curls and wrung them out with one hand and took the bottle with the other, "Thanks."

"I won't be long," he told her as she left the bathroom. He reached in and turned on the hot water and started to get undressed himself.

* * *

Hannibal had been in the kitchen sitting at the table staring at an old bronze locket that had belonged to his mother probably some 50 or 60 years ago, and that he hadn't seen in well over 40 years, it had been in the items retrieved from Hector's apartment when he cleared out. In it was a very old picture that showed its conditioned age; in the tiny photograph though he could still make out the man and woman, both about 20 years old, and hopelessly in love with each other. Based on the stories he recalled his mother telling when he was little, this picture must've been taken somewhere around the time of their first date.

They had been plenty poor at that time, his father bummed a few dimes off of people as they walked through the street on their way to dinner. It was all a bit before Hannibal's time, but he remembered once seeing a Charlie Chaplin film from around that same time, and somewhere in the film he remembered seeing a sign at a homeless shelter, renting a bed for the night was one dime per person. Inflation over the years certainly hadn't known when to stop.

They stopped in at a hamburger stand for dinner, got two burgers, and one bottle of Coke to split between them so they could afford the rest of the night. After they ate, they ran across the street, just avoiding the trolley car coming their way, and headed over to a lit dance hall that had just opened up for the night. They already found themselves stuck behind a group of people trying to get in; they tried sneaking past others and forcing their way in, which only resulted in them both being promptly thrown out, John Jr. on his head and she on her seat.

"Was _that_ part of your plan, John?" she asked dryly as they sat on the curb where they landed.

"No," he said as he got up again.

"Forget about it," she said, "Let's go somewhere else."

As it turned out, there weren't a lot of places for them to go. Most places they tried either rushed them out on the grounds that they were too young, too broke, or in general just not wanted.

"If this keeps up, I'm going to start taking it personally," John told her as they continued to walk along the gas lit sidewalks.

"Hey," she said as she stopped suddenly, "You hear that?"

He stopped and listened, and he looked at her, "A merry-go-round?"

"Must be a fair nearby," she said.

"Well," he scoffed, "They can hardly throw us out of there…maybe."

They found the fairgrounds and managed to get in. It was a warm night but nobody seemed to be particularly minding the heat, there was a large crowd and more than once they got lost in it. They grabbed two mats and went up the helter-skelter tower and slid down it.

"Watch out for that sudden stop," she said as she rubbed the back of her skirt, "It's a dilly."

"You're just not doing it right," he told her as he picked up his mat, "I'll show you."

"Yeah, _you_ show me," she replied humorously, "I'm going to stay _right here_ and watch."

She watched as he climbed back up the stairs to the tower and watched as he came sliding down again, and only happened to see at the last possible second, the police officer who had chosen that particularly spot to stop and look around. John crashed into him and the officer fell on his back with his feet up in the air. John jumped to his feet, grabbed his girlfriend and the two decided to get a head start on the chase. They ran past the merry-go-round and it gave John an idea; he grabbed her, lifted her up and put her on the ride, and then went around to where the control lever was, and when nobody was looking he cranked it all the way back so that the ride spun around as fast as it was built to, then he jumped on it also when he saw the cop coming his way.

"John!" he heard her calling from somewhere on the other side of the menagerie of horses bobbing up and down at record speed.

"Co-ming!" he called as he tried making his way around on the platform, dodging all the other riders. He kept close to the edge, grabbing the poles of the ride for support as he felt himself slipping along. He saw the cop coming up in his view down below and timed perfectly a well placed kick from his foot to the cop's face, knocking him down once again. Then he moved along a bit before finally managing to hop onto one of the horses, he wouldn't be able to catch up with his date but since they were there, they might as well enjoy the ride.

As they went around again he saw the same cop and tried kicking him again, and once again it worked, but the next time around he realized that they were trying to shut off the ride, or at least slow it down, so he hopped off his horse and tried to make his way around to find his date.

"I think we better hop off before we're thrown off," he told her when he found her.

He helped her down off her horse and they made their way to the edge. She grabbed onto one of the poles to stay balanced and when they went around again, she hiked up her skirt, reached out and kicked the cop in the jaw. Then they both jumped off and took off running. Thankfully the crowd helped them to get lost and make their escape while that dumb cop was lost in a sea of a hundred fairgoers.

They ran back into the city limits and decided to find something to eat. Both were surprised to see a candy store on Main Street was open and they decided to see about getting something from there. She went in first and right away her eyes were drawn to the penny candies in the jars on the counter. But she looked to the man behind the counter and asked him for an ice cream cone, and when his back was turned she pinched a few candies out of one jar and popped them in her mouth. John stayed at the front window and watched for the first sign of trouble, then he'd come in and give the man a couple dimes for all damages. Oop, there it was, the man had caught her stealing the candies, she put the ones in her hand back in the jar and even took one out of her mouth and put it back in as well.

John came in, pretended that he knew nothing about it and also asked the man for an ice cream cone. But the storekeeper wasn't done yelling at her yet, so she hiked up her leg, put her foot on the counter, unbuttoned it, reached in, pulled out a shiny quarter, gave it to him and told him, "Choke on that, pal, now give me my ice cream, and get this guy one as well. _And_ I'm taking back my candy." She reached in the jar, fished out the same piece she'd had in her mouth and popped it back in. While the man had his back turned again, John reached into his pocket, took out a dime and put it on the counter and they both took the liberty of stuffing a few hard and jelly candies in their pockets. They got their ice creams and were strongly suggested to leave; they both stuck their tongues out at the man and left.

They ate their ice creams as they walked and found themselves strolling through the park, it was nice and quiet, and except for a few gas street lamps, perfectly dark so they could be alone together. They sat down on a bench to rest for a moment but wound up falling asleep leaning against each other. They were awakened sometime later by another cop tapping his nightstick against the bench to get their attention.

"Problem, officer?" John asked with the most innocent face he could muster.

"G'on home both of you, ya drunks," the officer told him.

"Is there a law against sitting on a park bench?" John asked.

"Laws against loitering."

"We're not loitering, we're sitting," John said.

"You was sleeping on the bench," the cop told him in a warning tone.

"All the thieves and murderers running around this city and you're worried about a park bench?" John asked as they stood up, "Your priorities in somebody's pocket by any chance?"

The cop started growling at him. John felt someone tugging on his arm and he heard his girlfriend say, "Come on, John, let's leave the nice officer alone. Sorry for the trouble."

The cop flashed a small smile at her, "'S alright miss, but don't do it again."

"Of course not," she reached over and patted him on the back, "Evening, officer."

As they went their separate ways, John looked back at the officer and did a double take; sticking on the back of the cop's jacket was a paper sign that said 'SUCKER'. He recognized the print as being an advertisement sign from the candy store on Main Street. He turned and looked suspiciously at his date who just shrugged and said, "Well, after the store threw us out, I decided their sign might come in handy _elsewhere_…"

John laughed and then hooked his arm in hers and they headed off for home.

Her…_her_, there he went again, Hannibal tapped the side of his head as if that would dislodge the block in his memory. He _knew_ his mother's name, but whenever he tried thinking about it, he could never remember it. To him and him alone, her whole life she was 'Mom', but to the rest of the world, she was someone else entirely, she was a daughter, a wife, an entertainer, a woman who loved fine brandy and flowers and late night games of gin rummy and a fine cut of steak, rare though they were. Hannibal closed the locket, turned it over and looked at the engraftment his father had had put on it when he gave the locket to his mother the first year after they'd been married: Annabel Smock-Smith.

In all his years, he never was sure that he believed that story about their first date. He'd seen enough old films to know that it sounded like something straight out of Keystone, maybe it was, his mother _did_ have a tendency to add to a story whenever she felt there wasn't enough color, but he'd always enjoyed hearing it. He could just as easily see his parents, young, broke, and on the town, getting into that dance hall and spending the night dancing close with a medium sized orchestra playing on stage…but he could just as easily see them running around the city, and running circles around that dumb cop at the fairgrounds. Anything they could put their minds to, they usually did, it was just the kind of people they were, it was no wonder they'd married each other.

Jean entered the kitchen dressed in the clothes he'd set out for her, her hair wet and half smoothed down, half sticking up. Also, she had two sets of soaking wet shoes that she took over to the oven, turned it on to 180 degrees, and tossed them in.

"I guess since you're moving soon you needn't bother informing the super that the water softener downstairs needs more salt poured in it," she said.

Hannibal ignored the question and instead, since she seemed to be making more sense now than when they'd first stepped into his apartment, "So what happened on the date tonight?"

"Well," Jean said in an uncertain tone as she joined him at the table, "It's been interesting, Hannibal…that's about all I can say without it sounding corny, but I've had a good time tonight."

He smirked at her and replied, "Try me, you might be surprised."

"Eh…maybe tomorrow," she told him, "Murdock ought to be getting out of the shower in a few minutes and I don't know that our date was called just on account of rain."

"Oh…" he responded and nodded his head, "I get it."

Jean rubbed one hand up and down her other arm as the chill of the apartment hit her, and she said, "Sorry to intrude on you like this, but when the rain really started pouring down we were closer to here than home."

"That's alright," he said, "And I guess that answers my question."

She looked at him, "_What_ question?"

"I was just wondering _what_ kind of person would be dumb enough to get caught out in a rain like that."

"Funny," she dryly remarked.

* * *

Once Murdock came out of the shower, Hannibal announced that he was going to call it a night and give the two of them some privacy, and making good on his word, when he went to his bedroom he closed the door behind him. Murdock went to the closet and dug out some blankets and pillows and tossed them all over the floor, commenting about how cold it was out here after being in the hot water.

"On that we can agree," Jean said as she grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself, "Hard to believe that somebody could actually miss this place."

"I don't know, I think I'll miss it a little," Murdock said as he also got wrapped up tight and waddled over to the middle of the floor and sat down, "Been a lot of good times here."

"I suppose so," Jean replied as she sat down beside him, "And plenty of others _not_ so good. I still remember the first time I came here…actually I didn't come, I was _brought_ here."

"Not against your will, you said you didn't want to go to the hospital," Murdock reminded her.

"I didn't want to come here either, I told Hannibal to take me home," she replied, "What a hell of a way to see a guy's place for the first time, being carried in wearing nothing but a sheet."

"Sounds like one of Face's dates," Murdock commented.

"He wishes," she replied with a laugh.

Murdock got out a couple of halfhearted chuckles as he looked at her, then leaned over and kissed her. Jean moved back, tightened the blanket around her and told him, "I had a great time tonight."

"So did I," he replied with a smirk that screamed cat-swallowed-canary. He inched over towards her again and, getting his hands out from under the confines of his blanket, placed them on her shoulders so she couldn't back up again, and kissed her again.

* * *

Jean slowly woke up and came to several realizations; one that it was still dark but not totally dark, another that the ceiling looked very far away, which led her to her third realization, that she was on the floor. She was also hot and had trouble moving, she was stuck in a tangle of blankets, and there was something else. She turned her head to the side and realized what that was too, Murdock was on the floor asleep beside her, practically on top of her. Jean tried to remember what had happened last night, her whole memory was a blur at first, and then slowly, everything came back to her, and suddenly she felt she had to get away from this. She moved carefully and slowly and managed to maneuver her way out from under him and the covers and pushed her way out onto the thinly carpeted floor of Hannibal's living room.

Outside the rain had stopped sometime during the night, the telltale sound of drops pitting against the windows had finally died out hours ago, though exactly how many Jean couldn't tell. She was still trying to process what had happened last night, and tried to put all the pieces together. She got to her feet and made her way over towards the wall. Finding the clock, Jean was able to make out the position of the hands and saw that it was 4:30 in the morning. When had they fallen asleep? She didn't remember, she didn't even really remember what had happened here in the living room last night.

Turning back to the pile of sheets and blankets on the floor, she saw Murdock, still asleep, still curled up on his side, blissfully dead to the world and unaware of anything that was going on. Suddenly Jean felt cold and she pressed her arms tightly against her chest and pressed her hands over her biceps, she moved into the kitchen where there was still heat coming through from the radiator by the wall. The events of the previous night were starting to come back to Jean, in full detail. She was glad that right now she wasn't with Murdock as she needed to be alone now as she processed what had happened and what all it meant now.


	33. Chapter 33: The Morning After

33. The Morning After

Author's note: Apologies in advance, this chapter also ran long and had to be cut into two parts.

It had been a most unusual night, that much was certain, but thinking back now, it certainly hadn't been particularly unpleasant. Jean was just sorry that she'd fallen asleep because now bits and pieces of it seemed almost like a dream, like they hadn't actually happened.

She stood by the window watching the colors of the city change. The sun wasn't up yet and wouldn't be up for a good long while, but slowly she watched as the world outside changed from pitch black to a light dark and now to an almost brightening gray. One thing about it, this was the earliest that she had been up for weeks, if she could stay awake long enough to watch the sun rise, that would be almost a new experience anymore. She thought back to the terms of her life over the last couple weeks and it was just like she'd stepped through a vortex somewhere and everything was just mixed up.

If somebody would've told her that by 24 she would already be married and divorced and _then_ dating the guy she married, she would've said they were crazy, well _now_ who was the crazy one? She moved away from the window and crouched down beside Murdock again. Damn but when the man set his mind on something he did try so hard to get it right; he had wanted so much for last night to turn out better than their first date. The question, Jean realized as she sat down on the floor, was how was that determined?

Of course she hadn't figured they'd make it all the way through dinner, but she never would've guessed the reason why. The restaurant they'd gone to had been slightly lower key than the one before, so she had figured that they would get slightly better treatment from the staff, _slightly_ being the key word.

"Maybe we ought to see about getting this to go and taking it someplace where we're not being stared at by a bunch of vultures," Jean said.

"Oh what's the worst that could happen?" Murdock asked.

They managed to get through a first course of soup and a second of some kind of tossed salad, and just as they were finishing the main course of steak and potatoes, somebody came in who apparently believed in drinking at home first, he came into the restaurant already loaded and shot his mouth off about the both of them, making a big deal about the place letting the vermin in. Jean got up to go over and knock his head off, but Murdock told her to sit down. He hadn't liked it either, but he'd taken Jean aside and told her, "At this rate there's not going to be any restaurant in Los Angeles we're going to be able to frequent."

Jean thought about it and told him, "This place isn't that good."

"Come on," he said, "Let's just get the check paid and get out of here." Under his breath he added, "We'll wait outside and get him when he leaves."

It sounded like a plan to Jean, unfortunately just like Hannibal's plans, nothing worked the way it was supposed to. As they headed for the door, they both caught sight of somebody else sitting at another table and it just about sent both of them running for the hills.

"Did you just see what I just saw?" Murdock asked Jean under his breath.

"I saw it, but I don't believe it," Jean said as she turned and looked back.

Sitting at a table over on the far side of the dining room was Colonel Roderick Decker, out of uniform, in a dress suit, actually bearing resemblance to a human being. Fortunately he hadn't noticed them and it looked like they were going to get away from this one to tell about it.

"I can't believe it," Jean said to Murdock on their way outside, "I never thought ol' Roddy actually punched out at the end of the day."

"You think he's waiting on someone?" Murdock asked.

Jean snorted, "Maybe Crane also dressed like a ventriloquist dummy?"

"Or a woman?" Murdock replied.

"Decker and a woman?" Jean repeated in disbelief, "Now there's an alien concept. You know…I'd love to see how he resorts to a hostile situation _out_ of uniform."

"Jean, Decker _is_ a hostile situation," Murdock reminded her.

They heard a commotion from inside, along with the unanimous sound of many people screaming, and they decided to see what was going on. They went running back in and saw that the same drunk who had come very close to getting his lights punched out had started terrorizing everybody in the restaurant; from what they could make out, he had already punched two people, made a grab at a couple of the women, and now was throwing everything he could get his hands on, except for a wine bottle that he smashed and started jerking left and right slashing the air with.

"We should've knocked his head off when we had the chance," Jean said.

Murdock took his jacket off and wrapped it around one arm as he replied, "Yeah, who knew we would've done everybody here a favor?"

Jean looked around and noticed somebody was missing from the picture. "Hey, where's Decker?"

A sudden yelping gasp served as their answer. They'd picked the wrong minute to look away and now saw Decker falling to his knees, clutching his side as blood poured out from underneath his hand.

"That does it, this means war!" Jean said.

"That's right, he can't do that to Decker," Murdock said.

"Only _we_ can do that to Decker," she replied.

Murdock picked up a chair and beat the man over the head with it and sent him down for the count; Jean knelt down at Decker's side and tried to assess how badly he'd been stabbed as she yanked one of the tablecloths off and folded it up to press against the wound. Decker had already lost a lot of blood and was becoming unresponsive.

"Hey Roddy," she said, her voice shaking a bit, "You don't think you're getting a break from us that easily, do you?"

He managed to get his eyes open and looked like he was going to be sick when he saw her, "Oh no, not you people again."

"That's right, you're stuck with us, move your hand," Jean said.

Murdock came over to help and said, "I think he'll stay put until the cops come, I got a fat lady sitting on him."

"Give me a hand with him," Jean said, "Alright Decker, we're gonna get you up and we're gonna take you to the hospital, alright?"

Decker didn't answer except for a low moan. They got him to his feet and started walking him out. Jean kept the tablecloth pressed down on the wound while Murdock fished the keys for Decker's car out of his pocket and ran on ahead to find out which one it was. He found the right car on the third try and got Jean and Decker in the backseat because he'd been stabbed in his left side and she needed to press down with both hands but also room to do it.

"Boy Decker," Jean said, "You sure look funny out of uniform, you know that?" he didn't answer, "You especially look funny without your hat…I wasn't even aware that you had hair." Still no answer, Jean groaned and told Murdock, "We're losing him, step on it."

They got to a hospital and managed to get to the front of the line, Decker was promptly taken away and Jean and Murdock were left pacing the halls waiting for some news.

"Some Colonel, can't even hold his own against a drunk," Jean said, "What the hell did they train him for?"

"To battle sober, hardened, murderous Viet-Cong soldiers," Murdock answered, "The Army doesn't offer classes on how to restrain drunks who are craftier than you are sober."

"Well there's his problem," Jean said, "He wastes too much time chasing you guys, not enough time participating in barroom brawls like us."

After a while the doctor came out and told them that Decker had received 16 stitches but would be alright following a restful recovery.

"He's a dead man," Jean said, "He doesn't know how to rest. Doc, by any chance while he's here can you take his appendix out to keep him on ice for a week?"

"Can we see him?" Murdock asked.

The doctor had let them. Decker hadn't been moved to a room, but he lay unconscious on the table and it didn't seem he'd be waking up anytime soon. They found Crane's number and called him since Decker didn't have any family and nobody liked him, within half an hour Crane had come down to see how the Colonel was doing.

"Boy it must just be casual Friday tonight, mustn't it?" Jean asked as she noticed Crane was also dressed in civilian clothes.

"_How_ is the Colonel?" Crane asked.

"Well I think he'll be back on his feet in no time," Jean had told him.

"What makes you so sure about that?" Crane asked.

From behind the curtain in the exam room they heard Decker's gruff voice barking out, "Alright, who stole my pants?"

"Call it an instinct," Jean said wit a sly smirk.

The curtain was pulled back just far enough for Decker to stick his head out and when he saw them, his eyes widened in surprise. Jean looked to him and called back, "Stick your head back in there or I'm going to start handing out baseballs!"

"How're you feeling, sir?" Crane asked.

"As soon as I find the rest of my clothes, I'm going home," was his answer.

"You do that, Roddy, but remember what the doc said, nothing strenuous that'll rip those stitches out, and you know what that means."

Decker growled at her and replied, "Incidentally, Rhodes…what were you two doing at that restaurant tonight?"

"Well not that it was any of your business, Roddy, but it so happens we were on a date," Jean said.

Decker's eyes widened slightly at that revelation and he remarked, "Oh really, I thought by now that would be ancient history." Clearly Decker wasn't up on the matter of current and not so current events because he still thought they were married.

"You don't know the half of it," Murdock told him.

* * *

On the way out, Murdock realized that they'd left Jean's car back at the restaurant. She replied that they'd get it tomorrow and added that quite frankly she didn't care anymore. Neither of them wanted to head for home and call it a night and they found themselves walking until they realized they'd gotten off the main path and were in the park.

"Don't they always say not to go into the park after sundown because of all the bloodthirsty low lives that hang around there?" Jean asked, "Almost doesn't seem fair them having to put up with us tonight, does it?"

Murdock laughed and they found a bench under a relatively well lit area to sit down, and keep their eyes and ears open for anyone else wandering through the park at that time.

Jean groaned and Murdock asked her, "Still thinking about Decker?"

"What if we hadn't been there tonight? All those people around and everybody is too scared to go up against a crazy drunk," Jean said.

"That's our lot in life, to do the things nobody else will or wants to," Murdock told her.

However he could tell that there was more on Jean's mind than that.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She told him, "I finally got a response from our pal the President…remember I tried to get your old clients to go on record asking for their pardon? Well, we were turned down. What the hell am I going to tell the others?"

"Well I'll be honest with you, Jean, they were probably expecting that," Murdock told her.

"There's _got_ to be a way to get a pardon granted, I've just got to figure out what it is," she said.

"If there's a way I'm sure you will," he told her, "But don't think about it tonight."

"How can I not? I only got the letter this morning," she said, "All that work of tracking everybody down and getting them to agree to go on record, and for what? Nothing, that's what! FINE system we have here."

"You want to go home?" he asked.

"No."

He decided to try another approach, "Want to get drunk?"

Jean nodded. Murdock got up, pulled her along with him and they got out of the park and wound up back in the downtown city. At a corner he found a liquor store and they went in and browsed through the picks of poison. They decided on a cheap bottle of wine, right now they cared less about the taste and more about the alcohol taking effect and helping them to forget the fine mess tonight had turned out to be.

"Wait a minute," he said as they walked out of the store together, "We can't have wine on an empty stomach, it's disgusting."

"Who's empty?" Jean asked.

"Dinner was almost 2 hours ago," he told her, "Now how does that saying go, a loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou?"

"Bread I can understand, what I don't get is people who eat cheese with this stuff," Jean said.

He looked at her amusedly and asked, "What's the matter, you don't like it?"

"On burgers sure, but in plain chunks with a bottle of spoiled grapes?" she cringed, "Forget that."

"Alright, I've got another idea," Murdock said, "Follow me."

Not far from the liquor store they found an all night grocery store and while Jean concealed the bottle of wine in her jacket, Murdock went up and down the aisles until he found what he was looking for, which was one loaf of French bread, promptly put back after a disagreement with Jean and replaced by a loaf of Italian bread, and two individual pieces of cake in individual plastic containers.

"If we're going to do this we might as well do it right," he said as they got checked out and left the store.

"Next question," Jean said, "Where're we _going_ with this stuff?"

"How about back to the park?" Murdock asked.

"The park? It ain't got enough drunks already?" Jean asked.

"Oh come on, it'll be a nice place for a little picnic," he told her.

They were somewhat relieved and surprised to see when they returned that nobody had stolen their bench. Murdock sat on one side, Jean sat on the other and they put the food and wine between them. As Murdock worked the cork out of the bottle, Jean unwrapped the large loaf of bread and tore it into pieces.

"Charlie Chaplin once said all he needed to make comedy was a park, a policeman, and a pretty girl," Jean said as she pulled the bread apart, "Seems to me it wasn't exclusively something he alone did though, if memory serves he and Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton borrowed off of each other quite a bit…though come to think of it, I don't think Buster Keaton was ever in a park. Policemen chased him up and down elevators, in streets, in and out of buildings, he was strictly a city boy…but damn they sure made being young and in love look like something ridiculous, didn't they? Though I suppose it makes you wonder…exactly what _did_ people do that long ago when they went out on dates?"

"Oh I imagine it was a lot like today, go out to dinner, then to the picture show or out dancing…or if you were near a place like Coney Island…" he explained to her, "Well that's why so many rides are two-seaters, originally it was to put the couples together."

"Oh," Jean nodded, "And what do you suppose the poorer people did who couldn't afford any of that?"

"Well then…I suppose you had your date over for dinner and then found a free form of entertainment, like…"

Jean swept the air with her hand and asked, "Like taking a stroll through the park? Sure is a different world today than it was back then, lot of things different, you notice that? More than I think most people realize. I suppose that's just progress as usual, _that_, mixed with the ever increasing population…and the way the world must reform itself to fit their every whim and need." She started to laugh.

Murdock looked at her, "What?" and handed her the bottle.

Jean took a drink of the wine and said, "I remember a movie with that woman…oh…the one with the really curly hair…uh…Mary Pickford, America's sweetheart before there was Shirley Temple, oddly enough they did some of the same movies. She was 25, but she played an 11 year old girl whose father was a big Wall Street tycoon and she had private tutors and they had servants and he had a chauffer that drove her everywhere. Picture this, Murdock, 1917 and this girl is complaining she's tired of riding in a stuffy car, and wants to walk on her own two feet. Doesn't sound like something you'd expect from people back then, if anything it sounds like something somebody would say _now_, except _now_ nobody wants to walk anywhere. Very funny when you consider in New York we have all this public transportation, but people walk everywhere in the city."

Murdock took the bottle, and a swig of it, and smiled at her and said, "Seems to me that we had a conversation similar to this once, man and nature vs. technology…remember our honeymoon?"

Jean smiled, "Some honeymoon, me on bed rest with a concussion and we called in an alert to the MPs just to liven it up as we left. You know the only reason Hannibal sent us there was so I could recover."

"Well it was still nice," he said.

Jean smiled sadly and said, "Yeah, it was…" then the smile disappeared and she started picking at the nails on one hand with the nails on the other and said, "I was so horrible to him a while back."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him he never wanted us to be married, maybe he'd decide that it'd be better if you found someone else…I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me when he accused me of tricking you into the marriage just to use you. I know he was only looking out for you but still, he had no right to say that about me."

Murdock reached over and put his arm around her and said, "We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves, remember?"

"Sorry, I'm just a lousy date," she said.

"You're fine, this is just turning into a lousy night," he replied.

Jean smiled at him and said, "I love you, Murdock," and she leaned over and kissed him. Before he could respond she grabbed the wine and said, "Well I think we've gone through about half of this bottle already, think that's enough to get back home on without getting tossed in the drunk tank?"

Murdock looked at the bench and saw that most of the food was gone, and what was left the birds or some other animal, or some wino, could come across and eat.

"Yeah sure," he said, "Come on, let's go home."

They got up from the bench and started to walk, when Murdock came to a sudden stop and pointed at a patch of flowers growing in the park, and he went of and yanked a few out of the ground and bunched them together and presented them to Jean as a bouquet.

"That's the poor man's way of dating," Jean laughed as she took them.

"Well, do you see a sign saying _not_ to pick them?" he asked.

Jean laughed and shook her head. She inhaled the aroma of the flowers and commented, "Feel like Alice Adams."

"Come on," Murdock said as they left the park.

As they walked out the entrance gate, Jean stopped and flinched when she felt something grab her, then she realized it was Murdock's hand holding onto hers. She turned to him and asked, "Something the matter?"

"No," he answered, "I was just thinking…seems _this_ is pretty rare anymore either."

Jean nodded and loosened up and they continued walking. After a little ways Jean felt something drip on her and she stopped and looked at her arm, then looked up.

"What, are they coming again?" Murdock asked as he also looked up.

"Do you feel that?" she asked.

"Feel wha-ooh," he blinked and rubbed his eye, "Yeah, I felt that. Looks like we're in for rain."

It started off a drop here, a drop there, then they were coming several at once, but still it was a light rain so they didn't think much about it. After a while Jean noticed, "We seem to be going in a circle, we're heading right back to the park."

Murdock laughed and said, "Well it's one place that's well lit and private right now, especially with the rain."

"What do you want privacy for?" Jean asked.

He smiled at her like a mischievous little boy and said somewhat quietly, "Well I didn't want our date to be over until we'd had a chance to dance together."

Jean laughed under her breath and said, "You're a _real_ weird one, Murdock, you know that?"

He smiled as he grabbed her hands in his and said, "Come on, you remember how we used to when we first met?"

"Yeah, I also recall you doing the same thing with Face," she replied.

"Ohhh," he growled mockingly, then replaced it with some tune he was humming as they danced around in small circles under the streetlamp in the rain.

"So," he said, "Are we going to tell the others about what happened tonight?"

"With Decker?" Jean asked, "Na, I say we keep it to ourselves, I want to have something to hold over his head."

Murdock laughed, "That's why I married you, you're an evil genius." He rested his head on her shoulder to compensate a bit for their height difference as they continued to go around in circles.

"So tell me," Jean said.

"Hmm?" Murdock picked his head up, "Tell you what?"

"Tell me what you did on dates when you were younger," she said, "What did you do when you took other girls out?"

Murdock laughed self consciously as she'd caught him off guard with that question. He didn't answer at first and just when she thought that he wouldn't, he asked her, "Ever catch toads?"

"What?" she laughed.

"Used to hunt around at night and catch buckets full of toads, big toads, little toads, baby toads, some so big they could hop right out of the bucket," Murdock said, "Especially when they were standing on other toads' backs."

"You did that on a date?" Jean asked.

"Actually I did that as a kid…you know in South Texas they have those cane toads, they're poisonous but I was always careful with them, and on hot summer nights I could catch about 20 of them in a bucket. I _did_ try it with a couple girlfriends I had but they weren't really into grabbing warty things that scream and jump."

Jean laughed and pressed her face into his chest, "You are definitely a one of a kind, Murdock."

"Well I should hope so," he told her, "I should hate to think there's another me running around somewhere."

They gradually became aware that the rain was heavier now than it had been before, and it had made the air a lot colder than it had been, and they decided it would be a good idea to get out of it soon. Jean bent down and untied her shoes, telling Murdock, "Get them off, if we come into any big puddles, yours are going to be ruined, Chuck Taylors never dry out right after being completely submerged in a mud puddle."

"And yours?" Murdock asked.

"Probably the same, why take a chance?" she asked.

Sounded like good advice to him. They took off their shoes, stuffed their socks down into them and made their way back on every sidewalk they could get on. They did encounter large puddles along the way, and couldn't resist holding hands and jumping clear into them, getting splashed clear up to their knees and then some. The water was so cold it left them both breathless, and when they were able to breathe again they started laughing, both at how ridiculous they must've looked now hopping in the rain like a couple of nutty rabbits, and at how the entire date had gone.

"How far do you think we are from the house?" Jean asked.

"To be honest, we're closer to Hannibal's place," Murdock told her.

"Think he'd let us stay for the night?" she asked.

"Oh I'm sure he will," Murdock said, "Let's face it, the way we look right now, _who_ could turn us away?"

Jean laughed at his point, and it became contagious and the two laughed themselves sick all the way up to Hannibal's third floor apartment.


	34. Chapter 34: Pillow Talk

34. Pillow Talk

Well, Murdock had been right, Hannibal had agreed to let them stay at his apartment for the night. Really, what choice _did_ he have? The apartment certainly left much to be desired, but Hannibal always made the best of a bad situation and went all out to be a good host for his friends. He let them use his shower to wash up and warm up, he'd gotten a change of clothes out for them so their others could drip dry overnight, and he'd been surprisingly _very_ understanding and let them have the living room to themselves as he shut himself in the bedroom for the night. His obvious flaws and weaknesses aside, the man was a saint.

Once Hannibal had retired to his own room, they settled down on the floor wrapped in some extra blankets from the closet to get warm, and that was when Murdock suddenly turned into an octopus.

"Murdock," Jean said with a laugh as she pushed back from him, "What're you doing?"

"Well I forgot my whiskey, so I thought maybe we'd try the Eskimo method of warming up," he said.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Oh two people sit together close and wrapped up until morning…course in Alaska night's 6 months so it leaves a lot of time for something to do."

Jean laughed and pushed herself up in a sitting position and told him, "_Down_, boy."

Instead, Murdock got on his hands and knees and crawled to her making small animalistic sounds.

"Murdock, Hannibal's still awake, he'll hear you," Jean said as she moved back again.

"Well as long as we don't get any heckling from the peanut gallery, that don't bother me none," Murdock said, "Hell, as long as it's taken us to get to this point he'd probably give us his blessing on it."

"Just so long as he doesn't start cheering us on," Jean replied cynically as she disappeared behind the couch and came likewise crawling around the other side.

They looked at each other and fell to the floor laughing at how ridiculous each looked.

"Well," Jean said as she propped one arm under her cheek, "Tonight may not have gone like we planned, but I'd still say it was a good date."

"Yeah, but I'd _still_ like just for once, for it to turn out like I plan," Murdock said.

"Well we're not jumping off the deep end yet," Jean told him as she sat up, "It could still happen."

Murdock scooted over to her and smiled at her like a cookie cutter shark, then he put his hands on her again and pushed her down against the floor and kissed her again. Jean laughed and turned her head every which way so he missed his target. Finally she stopped playing hard to get and she looked up at him and met his gaze and they looked at each other for a couple minutes. Then suddenly, without warning, Murdock pulled back and away from her, and sat up on the floor. Jean got up and moved over to him and asked him, "What is it, Murdock?"

Murdock didn't appear to have heard her, he wrapped his hand around his mouth and got a distant look in his eyes as if he was seeing something far off. Jean inched along closer to him and asked him, "What's the matter?"

He looked at her and said, "I know that you've got some doubts about us getting married again, I know what you've been telling Hannibal…I don't know that it's going to help our current situation any but I thought I'd let you know that I got some as well."

It surprised her to hear this but it didn't _really_ surprise her either, she figured that he had to be questioning it as well. "What about?" she asked.

He looked to her and said, "Remember when we came here a few weeks ago, after the chopper crashed?"

Jean nodded.

"And I know Hannibal talked to you about it…about _why_ things were handled the way they were…"

Jean nodded, "Yeah because apparently you all have some kind of kid sister fixation when you look at me."

"Well…that's not entirely wrong, but it's not entirely true either, and I wanted to get the air cleared about that," Murdock said.

"Well I'm listening," she told him.

"Alright…well it's like this…you know how it is that no matter how much time passes from when you first know someone, you tend to still think of them in the terms of 'then', instead of now?"

Jean nodded, "Sure, everybody does that, especially when there are large gaps between visits, it's only natural."

"Well," Murdock told her hesitantly, "That's how I feel about you at times." He caught the look she gave him and he put his hand up to signal for her to let him finish, "Now I know that by the time we first met you you were already fully grown…physically anyway…mentally, emotionally, I don't know _where_ you were, truth be told I don't think _you_ know either. But the fact remains, you were a scared kid who didn't have anywhere to turn and needed somebody to trust…that was seldom clearer than that night when I found you in the bathroom after your nightmare. As memory serves, that was the first time that the two of us slept together…and I swear to you the only thing going through my mind that night was making sure you were alright, I wasn't trying anything with you."

"I know you weren't," she replied, "And I was very grateful for what you did…if you hadn't been there I think I would've just lost my mind."

"And, I know that you have changed _so_ much since then, but there are still times I look at you, and I still see you _then_, and when that happens…" he shook his head, "Everything else is secondary, my first instinct is still that I need to protect you, I know how ridiculous that sounds…" he saw Jean tilt her head down and cover her face with her hand and he saw her shoulders rising and falling rapidly, "Jean, I'm sorry, I can't help it."

Jean let out a guttural sound that shocked him, she looked up and he saw that she was laughing at him. "What're you worried about, Murdock, that I'm going to think you're taking advantage of me?"

"All I know is I never felt much like a cradle robber before, but with you I _do_ get that feeling," he said, "I never had a problem with dating younger women before, but let's face it, there's about 15 years difference between us, I'm practically old enough to be your father."

"There's an image I don't need," Jean said.

"I'm sorry, Jean, but what Hannibal said is true…there's no easy way to explain it," Murdock told her.

Jean folded her arms and crossed her legs like an old western Indian and said, "There is, you just don't want to say it because of how it sounds, so I will. Every other woman you encounter has been doing a good job of making herself look older and most feminine since she was 13 years old, they cake makeup on like French bimbos, they follow whatever the latest hairstyles are that give them that extra appeal, _many_ of them get that bleached blonde look especially, and they're all bone thin so they can parade around all day on the beach in bikinis or in tube tops and short shorts, pantyhose optional. Now, _maybe_ by the time they grow up they finally look their own age, and after a certain year they try reversing the cycle and start making themselves look _younger_, like they're back in their early 20s, always trying to look _very_ appealing towards every man not stricken with cataracts or attached to a respirator. Their appearance is naturally an older one, a more…_mature_ approach, not like me, I'm not thin, I'm not a blonde, I don't have long flowing hair that would make for a great Mermaid look all taped to my chest, I'm a matter of what you see is what you get, no maintenance but also no thrills, no frills, nothing easy on the eyes, my face doesn't come in a jar mask that washes off at night just to get piled on again the next day. That about cover it?"

"Well you took the long way around, but yeah pretty much," Murdock answered, "You're about the realest woman _in_ this city, _nobody_ who had to put up with you would know how to deal with it."

Jean smiled and replied, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," he said as he scooted over to her and snaked his arms around her, "I'd rather have you than all those living Malibu Barbie dolls any day." He waited until she had leaned into him to add, "Course that don't mean I don't like looking still," she pulled back and looked at him, he laughed and added, "Well, ain't that what you do at the bakery? Look over all the $30 cakes, knowing you ain't gonna get one cuz you can't afford it, but you still like looking."

Jean shrugged and said, "I suppose a cheesecake's a cheesecake."

"That's shortcake, Jean," Murdock told her, "They call those women shortcakes."

"You eat what _you_ like, I eat what _I_ like," she replied.

Murdock fell against her laughing.

"Speaking of which," Jean said as she got to her feet.

Murdock groaned, "Don't tell me you're hungry again."

"No, but I was thinking since Hannibal's gone to bed, we could help ourselves to some of his gin," she said.

"Ooh, good idea," Murdock followed her into the kitchen.

Jean looked at him and asked, "How many of the women you've been with have been younger than you?"

"Oh I'd say most of them," he said, "When I was 18, 20, I didn't pay much mind to it."

"I've always made it a point not to get involved with anyone younger than myself," Jean said, "After a while you wind up feeling responsible for them."

"I suppose that's true," Murdock responded.

"Though if you want to know something, Murdock," she came up behind him, "I guess it's not entirely you guys' fault that you regard me as you do."

"How's that?" he asked.

"Well…in a couple months I'm going to be 25…but tell you the truth, I never feel like I got any older than 13, hell, some days I still feel like I'm 10."

"Boy that must've been _some_ childhood you had," Murdock said.

"Do you ever think about how old you are?" Jean asked, "Or how old you _feel_ like you are?"

"Well…" Murdock stopped as he took out some glasses, "I guess so…I guess if I had to pinpoint it, I'd say around 20." He turned to her and added, "But that doesn't stop me from feeling old either."

"We're all old," Jean told him, "Because we live hard, it ages us prematurely, it just doesn't do it to _us_ in the way everybody can see it, ours is internal work…don't think you're the only one who's ever felt ancient by the end of the day, or the beginning."

Murdock managed half a smile as he looked at her, he reached a hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head, but whatever he had planned to say, Jean wouldn't allow it, she picked up the bottle and asked, "So, how much do we feel like aerating our livers tonight?"

They had a few drinks and then returned to the living room. Murdock got down on his hands and knees and started placing some blankets on the floor, Jean stood behind him and asked, "How much weight do women put on when they're pregnant?"

Now _that_ was a question so spontaneous and so unforeseeable that it could get a double take response out of anyone, _even_ Murdock.

"You're asking _me_?" he asked as he turned around on his knees.

"Haven't you ever known a pregnant woman?" Jean asked.

"Haven't you?"

She shook her head, "Nope."

"I don't know, I guess about 30 pounds or so," Murdock said.

"30 pounds? And all of that for a 7 pound baby?" Jean asked, "What's the rest of it for?"

He scowled at her mockingly and told her, "You're asking the wrong person. Why _are_ you asking anyway?"

She knelt down beside him and asked him, "You have time for another confession?"

Murdock tilted his head up to her and replied in a poor imitation of an Irish accent, "Any time f'you me child."

"The first thing Hannibal said to you after I told him we were married was he asked if I was pregnant."

"That was a joke," Murdock said.

She shook her head, "I don't think so, ever since then he's been hinting around to it all the time, he told the whole hospital I was pregnant when we took him to get his appendix out."

"_That_ was the drugs," Murdock replied.

"Even _you_ were thinking about it, remember?" Jean asked, "Remember you were worried he was going to die before he had any grandchildren? And now…"

"Now what?"

"That envelope, Murdock, remember?" Jean asked, "You put $20,000 in an envelope in the event that we have a child."

He looked at her and was starting to catch on to the problem and he told her, "Well Jean, that wasn't to imply anything, I explained it was just incase anything happened that we didn't plan on."

"I know, but I don't think I can do it, Murdock," Jean said, "We've been going around this in circles for almost a year, everybody assumes we're going to have kids, hell, _we_ assume it…now there's no doubt you would be a great father, that is self evident…but what about me? I want to be a good mother but what the hell kind of a one could I possibly be given my past?"

"Gotta be better than Joan Crawford, that's for sure," Murdock answered nonchalantly.

"Murdock, I'm serious."

"So am I," he replied as he sat down, "What kind of sadistic woman _beats_ her kids with wire hangers of all things?"

Jean sat down facing him and told him, "And it's not just that…I remember how sick I got as a kid, sick 3-4 time a year, 2 weeks to a month or two months each time, what if my kid's like that? What if they can't be vaccinated either? Or what if they do and it doesn't do any good? And what if they inherit my migraines? I started getting them when I was 8 years old."

Murdock felt this conversation reaching a certain ledge of a cliff up ahead and decided to go for broke and jump off it and get to the chase, "And what if in 18 years they announce they want to join the army?"

Jean shook her head, "Won't happen, after what they did to you guys, _and_ me, _and_ all of those recruits buried at the training base? Hell no, if we have another war I'll gladly supply them a dress for their trip to Canada."

"Yeah but Jean, you're getting too far ahead of yourself on this," Murdock told her.

"No I'm not, I'm considering all possibilities, this is _my_ bloodline we're talking about, _my_ history, it _has_ to be considered because only _I_ know all the damage that's there."

Murdock reached over and pulled her to him and he told her, "You're forgetting, Jean, it'll be _my_ bloodline too."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked cynically.

Murdock ignored her comment and told her, "Whenever we have kids, they'll be alright, you'll see."

"And what if we don't?" Jean asked, "It's a lifetime commitment, even once they're 18 you don't stop being a parent, nobody's ever really _prepared_ for that but you've got to be ready for it, you've got to be ready to give up your life as you knew it, for the next 20 years raising another human being, and _you_ might be, but…"

"Hey, hey," Murdock patted her on the back and rocked back with her, "Just take it easy, Jean."

"And then today…how the hell are we gonna have a kid when you know we wouldn't be able to bring it within 10 feet of the others without having to make another escape from the MPs or the cops at a moment's notice…how the hell are _you_ going to have a pregnant wife, a perfect target, during those 9 months _and_ still work with the Team, huh? If I could've gotten them that pardon then this wouldn't be an issue, but that idiot in the White House had to say no, they're not worthy of a pardon, murderers get pardons all the time, why can't the A-Team when they've spent the last 10 years helping people and doing some actual good in this world?"

"Jean, it's just a minor setback, calm down," he told her, "We'll figure something out, we always do."

"But this is different, Murdock," she said.

"No it's not," he replied, "This is just one plan that's going to take a little more time to put together, this is one that if it's going to work it has to work as it should, _not_ like the rest of Hannibal's plans."

She looked at him and asked, "What about the other part of it?"

"Well," he said, "As far as I know we don't have any specific date set for the wedding, right?"

"No."

"If I said let's get married tonight, what would you say?" Murdock asked her.

She looked at him and replied, "After the night we've _already_ had? Are you nuts?"

"Alright, if I said let's get married tomorrow, what then?"

"I'd say you need to find somebody with more stamina than me," Jean said, "After today I intend to spend tomorrow recuperating from tonight's escapades."

"Alright, if I said let's get married next month, how about that?"

"I don't know."

"What about six months?"

"Murdock, I don't know, I can't plan that far ahead," she said.

"Well you see?" he asked, "Until we _do_ get married, it's nothing we need to worry about."

"And what about after?" Jean asked.

"Well, until we decided on anything definitely…"

"Keep in mind I'm not in strong favor of taking pills on a regular basis," Jean told him.

Murdock nodded understandingly and responded, "Well there's nothing that says _after_ we're married that we'd need to worry about it either, really."

"Ah but that's only to cover the basis of _my_ side of it," Jean pointed out, "What about you?"

"Oh I don't know, I think it'd be a good idea to be married for a few years and try it on for size before plotting to unleash a whole army of little Murdocks onto the world," he explained as he picked at his nails.

"Yes, but you know what that means," Jean said to him.

He nodded and replied, "I'm fine with it."

"There's something else," Jean added sheepishly, "After we're married," she nodded to the bedroom door, "You think they're gonna look at us differently?"

"Why would they?" Murdock asked.

"You know why," she said.

"Oh I don't think so," he replied, "We're all adults here."

"Speak for yourself," she replied mockingly.

Murdock chuckled at her and said, "Jean, you're making too much out of this, everything's going to be just fine, you'll see."

"I sure hope so, Murdock," she replied.

Murdock got back to work on piling blankets on the floor for them to lie on, then he put another one draped over the bottom so they'd be able to keep their feet warm while they slept. Jean tossed two pillows on the top and they each got wrapped up again in their own blankets before pulling another one on top of both of them.

Lying in the dark, both noticed how quiet the apartment was, the ticking of the clock on the wall was almost deafening, about as bad as somebody snoring. Murdock decided to take advantage of the darkness of the room and crawled over to Jean's side of the makeshift bed and made himself comfortable.

"What're you doing?" Jean laughed quietly.

"Well there's still no reason we can't try the old Eskimo trick, it'll just be 6 months shorter than usual," he answered.

Jean laughed harder and pushed him back over to his own side. He rolled back over to the other side and pinned her down and kissed her. They spent about half an hour in the dark in a tangle of sheets and blankets in a fit of intimacy that was tame enough it could've gotten approval by the censor board in the 1930s. It was still more action in one night than Murdock had for a better part of the 10 years he'd spent as a patient in the V.A. hospital. They did in the dark what most people wouldn't give a second thought to doing in both broad daylight _and_ public, but the fact remained they chose to keep their actions private and to themselves. It _was_ how they had gotten through the first week of their marriage, and where both of them were concerned, the first week was the best week because it was before _anybody_ had found out about it and they had to actually make an effort to sneak around to do anything fun together. They both remembered well, sneaking out of the house at night and stealing helicopters when Murdock insisted on giving Jean lessons, sneaking out when everybody else was asleep, to break into the city pool on a hot night when the air conditioner gave out. Nobody would've ever looked at any of their actions at the time and suspected that they were the acts of a newly married couple, but all the same there was just something about treating it as a taboo issue and sneaking around that made it all the more exhilarating for both of them.

Jean let out a long, albeit quiet yawn as she felt Murdock's lips on her cheek. She didn't know what time it was, unquestionably it had to be late. She pressed her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, though her hand managed to find Murdock's and her fingers intertwined with his. She felt him kiss her over one eye and heard him whisper, "Goodnight, Jean."

She got out half of a mumbled response before sleep took her.

* * *

All in all it didn't sound like a bad night, and it hadn't been. The real trouble had come after she'd fallen asleep, that was when all the events of the evening came crashing down on her; the denial for the pardons, Decker, the thought of being married, being pregnant and trying to keep from getting both she and the baby killed or Murdock and the others captured when she found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time due to her relationship with the Team. Everything hit her at once like a ton of bricks after having bits and pieces sitting on her mind over the months, over the years, and it had all been heavily on her mind when she woke up that morning, and then to turn over and see Murdock, who had gotten through the night without a care in the world, without a clue as to what was going through her own mind…she'd just had to get away from him for a while and think about everything logically in the somewhat daylight.

By now Jean could see the sun starting to rise off to the far east, the morning glow starting to pop up over the buildings in the distance. She'd spent about an hour thinking about everything and trying to make some sense out of it all. And for it all she hadn't come away from it with a whole lot of answers or solutions, obviously most of this stuff was going to have to be dealt with as it happened, and she knew it _would_ happen, it was just a question of when, there was no escaping that and she knew it. All the same, through it all she had come out of the vortex with one definite answer in her mind. She picked up the phone and carried it into the kitchen and dialed a very long distance number, knowing that the time difference between here and New York was three hours ahead on the Big Apple's time.

She'd been holding her breath until the phone was answered. "Hi, Mom…yeah, it's kind of early here, no, I'm fine…uh, listen, there's something I wanted to tell you. Well you remember Murdock? Yeah…yeah, he's still staying with me…and, well…I think…we decided to go out tonight…yeah, a date…hell must be freezing over after all, eh?" she laughed, "Oh…I don't know, there's about the same stuff to do _here_ on a date as back there…well, whatever we decide we're going to do, I'll give you all the details when we get back tonight…uh huh…well I've got to get going now, Ma, I'm wanted at the studio…uh huh…love you, goodbye."

Simultaneously she felt like she'd just gotten a boulder taken off her shoulders, but also felt like she just missed it slamming on her feet. Okay, so she was still lying to her mother, but piece by piece she was getting closer to the truth, she could always relay the events of the previous night and see what her mother made of that. Hard as it was to reach this point, Jean knew this was actually the easy part, one date is easy to understand, but jumping in with both feet into a relationship, with Murdock of all people…that was going to take a while to explain, especially given how limited Jean knew her options were. If her mother had the slightest clue to what kind of life she _really_ led, all the fights she'd been in, all the times she'd come close to dying, how many times she'd come close to killing or _had_ killed…hopefully over time she'd be able to figure something out that would tell her mother all she needed to know without going into too many details.

Jean went back into the living room and saw Murdock was still asleep on the floor. She picked up one of the discarded blankets, draped it over herself, tiptoed over to their bed on the floor, and all but jumped on Murdock's back as she rejoined him. That definitely woke him up. He turned over and smiled tiredly, "Hey Jean…"

"Hey yourself," she said as she rolled off his back and lay on the floor beside him.

Murdock yawned and asked her, "What time is it?"

"About 5:30," she answered.

"Oh good, then we can sleep in a bit," Murdock said as he started to turn over onto his side.

"Yeah," Jean said as she snaked her arms around his waist, "I love you, Murdock."

He craned his neck around and kissed her and replied, "Love you too."

"Hey," Jean said as she reached over and lightly slapped him on his back, "I had a great time last night."

"Good, me too," Murdock replied with a big, tired grin on his face.

"Murdock," Jean said, even though by now she couldn't keep her eyes open.

"Yah?"

"I told my mom about us."

"How'd she take it?" Murdock asked.

"I'll get back to you on that after tonight," she replied just before they both conked out again.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened and Hannibal stepped out already dressed for the morning. He stopped beside the large lump on the floor and looked at the two of them, shaking his head and smirking. _What_ was he going to do with these two? He grabbed one of the discarded blankets on the floor and covered them with it, and then headed into the kitchen to start the coffee.

He'd heard most of their conversation last night, and most of what was said this morning, including Jean's telephone call. He was proud of her, he knew how hard it had been for her to even reach this point, trying to find the right time, the right way, to break the news about she and Murdock. Well, this was a start anyway. They'd agreed it was best to keep Mrs. Rhodes in the dark in the beginning, in part it was only understandable since they couldn't very well tell her about the marriage; but in whole it was also decided it should be put off until she knew them better, and knew Murdock better, and knew that he was alright. Hannibal was sure she already knew that about Murdock but he was sure the last couple of visits back to New York had helped to fortify that fact; of course they'd done very well to make sure she never caught on about just how closer her daughter had gotten with their pilot.

Of course, he still wasn't sure that she was thrilled about Jean having a man living with her in her home, Murdock or not, but then again maybe it helped her sleep better at night knowing that her daughter wasn't alone. But all the same, he could just imagine the time they were going to have whenever they actually broke the news to the Rhodes' about their daughter's engagement. Oh well, one step at a time. Fortunately there was plenty of time to get everything figured out. After all this _was_ just the second date, he was sure there would be more to come before _anything_ was made official.


	35. Chapter 35: Bedrest

35. Bedrest

Hannibal followed the glugging sounds into the living room to the source of Murdock sitting up on the hide-a-bed drinking the contents of a bottle of stomach soother.

"How're you feeling, Captain?" he asked.

Murdock put the bottle down, let out a small burp and covered his mouth while he waited to see what would happen. When nothing did, he put his hand down and said, breathing heavily, "Alright, Colonel."

Hannibal patted him lightly on the back, he knew this had been a rough day on the pilot. He felt Murdock's forehead and told him, "Still warm, but I don't think it's a fever."

Murdock was shaking but his face was covered with sweat. He'd been staying with Hannibal overnight, and over the night he'd seemed alright, then he'd woken up like this, Hannibal didn't know what it was, but he knew that in a city the size of Los Angeles there was never any shortage of fresh germs going around, so it could've been any one of a hundred things. Still, right now it was more a matter of extreme discomfort, but nothing that looked severe.

"Your head still hurting?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh…a little," Murdock said.

Hannibal nodded and went to get him some new pills. After the Captain swallowed them, Hannibal had him lie back down, he covered Murdock up and told him to try getting some more sleep.

"Okay," Murdock replied tiredly, so tired that he couldn't keep his eyes open, his hand reached out and found Hannibal's and he added, "Hannibal, just don't tell Jean about this."

"I won't," Hannibal told him.

Murdock nodded slightly, "Good…good…don't want her getting this, and if she finds out I'm sick she'll be right over here…wait a couple days, tell her something…"

Hannibal stroked his hand over Murdock's head and when the pilot was asleep he went back to the kitchen to eat his lunch in private. He ate a sandwich standing up as he considered just _what_ to tell Jean, he didn't know that what Murdock had was contagious, but he was inclined to agree, if it was, they didn't need Jean getting it as well, she was still in the process of getting over a relapse of her walrus cough.

After giving it some thought, Hannibal decided to call Jean. He got the phone and called the house, and waited. It was answered promptly and shortly, "Hello?"

"Hi Jean," Hannibal noticed she didn't sound like her usual self, "How's it going?"

"You ever see that movie where if you take the boards out of a fireplace, three horrible little trolls crawl out and try to suck you down into it and wreak general havoc on the household?" Jean asked him.

Hannibal wasn't sure how to answer that one.

"Problems?"

"I think there are goblins in this house," Jean told him, and now he could hear that she was tired, "I was up until 4 o' clock this morning tearing the house apart looking for some things, I still haven't found them yet. I'm exhausted." Before he could respond, she added, "I know that I promised Murdock I'd go with him out to the heliport today to rent a chopper for the afternoon but I'm just not going to be able to make it, I need to get some sleep. Hannibal, do you think you could break the bad news to him for me, please?"

He felt a surge of relief wash through him.

"Well as it turns out, Jean, those plans got cancelled for today," he said.

"Oh, the weather looking bad?" she asked.

He glanced out the window and noticed the clouds, "Yeah, I think he and I'll just find something else to do today and we'll let you rest."

"Oh thanks, Hannibal, I really appreciate it," Jean said with a groan, "I've got to get some sleep, my head is killing me."

Over the phone he heard a sharp cough escape her and he was glad she _wasn't_ coming over. "You take care of yourself, kid, we'll see you later."

"Okay, bye."

Hannibal hung up and returned to the living room to see how Murdock was doing. He was glad to see the pilot was still asleep. Hannibal sat down in a chair by the couch and watched Murdock while he slept. He started to think about all the times he'd had one or all of his men in this apartment and him stuck with the task of being nursemaid to them as they recovered from some injury obtained on the job, or a seasonal bout of the flu or whatever the hell else was going around. The more he thought about it he realized their proverbial sickbed must've had about a million frequent flyer miles on it, especially on this couch. He'd had Murdock, and Face, and B.A. all here recuperating at one time or another, from gunshot wounds, to hairline fractures, to bruised ribs, to concussions, and from influenza to sinus infections to migraine headaches, poison oak, pulled muscles, dislocated shoulders and the common cold. Everything but the kitchen sink, as the saying went.

Murdock was always the last to say when he wasn't feeling well, why exactly that was, nobody could figure out. Part of it of course was not wanting to admit that there was anything wrong, they all understood that, they all went through that. Another part of it seemed to be the mentality that getting sick meant letting the others down, and _where_ that came from, Hannibal would like to know because that _also_ seemed to be contagious among his men. He could appreciate their persistence, but it only made a situation worse when they went into a job trying to act like nothing was wrong, only to succumb a short while later to a fever or stomach cramps or fainting spells. Hannibal went over to the bed and scratched a lone finger over Murdock's scalp and asked the sleeping pilot, "_What_ is it with you kids?"

* * *

Hannibal heard somebody knocking and realized he'd fallen asleep in his chair. He went to the door and saw it was Face and B.A.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"That's what we want to know," Face said, "What happened to you guys? I thought we were supposed to…" Face stopped when he got a glimpse into the living room.

"What's wrong with the crazy fool?" B.A. asked.

"He's sick," Hannibal answered.

"How bad is it?" Face asked.

"He'll be alright, probably by tomorrow," Hannibal said, "He's managed to stay asleep the last few hours…" then he thought to look at the clock, and decided he better call Jean and see what was going on on her side.

While he did that, Face and B.A. went over towards the couch and noticed the medicine bottles on the inn table. Little more than stomach medicine and painkillers, so clearly it wasn't anything serious enough to require the entire mini-drug store, they took that as a good sign.

"When'd you see Murdock last?" Face asked B.A.

"Last night before he came here," B.A. answered.

Face nodded, "Me too, he seemed fine then."

"Face," Hannibal called out from the kitchen, in a tone that Face knew only too well, the typical 'get-in-here, don't-make-me-come-out-there' tone that nobody knew better than the Lieutenant.

"Yeah Hannibal?" he asked as he poked his head into the kitchen.

Hannibal looked concerned about something and he told Face, "Jean's phone keeps ringing and there's no answer, and I know she was staying in today."

"Is she sick too?" Face asked.

"Just exhausted, she was up all night, but she still ought to be answering the phone."

"I get it, I'll go over and make sure she's alright," Face said, beating Hannibal to the point.

Hannibal couldn't help responding, "Well thank you, Lieutenant, that was so nice of you to volunteer."

Face rolled his eyes as he headed for the door.

* * *

Hannibal came out of the kitchen with a couple of sodas for he and B.A. and stopped in the doorway at what he saw. B.A. was seated at the foot of the hide-a-bed watching Murdock while he slept, and Hannibal noticed that the Sergeant's hands were curled up tight near his knees, much as he was the few times he was actually conscious for the pending liftoff of an airplane.

"Here," he said as he handed a can to the larger man.

B.A. took it but didn't turn towards the other man, "Thanks, Hannibal." Then he turned his neck and asked, "How long Murdock been asleep like this?"

"Oh I'd say about 6 hours," Hannibal said as he checked his watch, "The longer he sleeps, the better I'm sure it'll be for him."

That might be, but he noticed that B.A. only looked even more uneasy by this fact.

The phone rang and both men about hit the ceiling, but Murdock only turned over onto his side and curled up in a ball. Hannibal went into the kitchen and picked up the receiver, "Hello?"

"It's alright, Hannibal," Face's voice came through, "Jean just turned the ringer off."

Hannibal let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding in, then he reached to his pocket and took out a new cigar, "Where is she?"

"Still in bed," Face said, "She only woke up long enough to make a suggestion what I could do with the phone…Hannibal, the house looks like a tornado went through here, what happened?"

"Uh…" Hannibal said as he took his cigar out of his mouth, "Trolls?"

"What!?"

"Never mind, just get back here, Lieutenant," Hannibal told him.

He could hear Face grumbling in response as he hung up the phone. Then he headed back to the living room, but once again stopped in the doorway at what he saw. And what he saw this time was B.A. shaking Murdock trying to get him to wake up. Hannibal was almost tempted to warn B.A. that wouldn't be a good idea given the way Murdock's stomach had been acting that morning, but he decided to just stand back and watch what unfolded.

"Come on, Murdock, wake up," B.A. said as he put a little more elbow grease into the shakes and was pressing Murdock down against the mattress. Murdock never opened his eyes but he half rolled onto his back and started waving his hand like he was trying to shoo whatever was pushing him. Then he turned back onto his stomach and folded his arms under him. B.A. tried again and this time Murdock lifted one leg and moved it back like he was trying to kick whatever was disturbing his sleep.

"B.A., let him sleep," he finally said.

B.A. turned back to the Colonel and replied, "I can't help it, Hannibal, his quiet's even worse than his crazy jibber jabber."

Hannibal nodded sympathetically, "I know…", but he was saying it for another reason. It reminded him too much of when they first got Murdock out of the V.A., before he'd managed to fool the nurses into thinking he was taking his medication. When you swallowed something and the finished result was it shut you down and made you a shell of the person you used to be, _how_ in the hell could that be considered 'working' or 'improvement' or 'a breakthrough'?

This however, he knew, would pass sooner and easier, but the wait was still near maddening.

* * *

Murdock finally woke up around 9 o' clock that night, after a little more shaking and prodding, this time from Hannibal.

"How're you feeling, Captain?" he asked.

"Oh…" Murdock took a minute to get around and he got up on his hands and knees and crawled up to the top of the hide-a-bed and pulled himself up on the couch backing, "I'm thirsty."

"How's your stomach?" Hannibal asked.

"Empty," Murdock groaned.

"And your head?"

"Light as a feather, as usual," Murdock answered.

Hannibal smiled, "Sounds like you're feeling better."

Murdock yawned and responded, "Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?"

"Late," Hannibal told him, "You slept through dinner."

"Aww, what'd we have?"

"What sounds good?" Hannibal asked him.

"Well I…" Murdock had just started to suggest one of his more eccentric ideas when he decided against it and said, "How about some soup?"

Hannibal chuckled lightly and said, "You got it, Captain."

"Oh…" Murdock thought of something, "You didn't tell Jean, did you?"

"No, I didn't tell her," Hannibal assured him.

"Oh good," Murdock replied, "I wouldn't want her worrying."

"I can understand that, but Murdock," Hannibal told him, "Sooner or later it's going to happen and she's going to know."

"I know it will, but she's already been sick this month, I don't want her getting something new, certainly not from me," Murdock explained.

"Well," Hannibal said, "I don't think what you have is anything contagious, but all the same it was a commendable decision. Though I'll be honest with you, I don't think Jean would've had the energy to be worried today, she's been sleeping something off all day herself."

"Is she sick too?" Murdock asked.

"No, no, nothing like that, apparently she was up all night on some house project. I talked to her this morning, she must've still been delirious from lack of sleep, she was saying something about goblins…or trolls."

"Hmmm," Murdock said, "Good thing that house doesn't have a fireplace."

Even for Hannibal being as used to Murdock's spontaneous ideas and outbursts, that remark still drew a double take out of him.

"Good to have you back, Captain," he said as he headed into the kitchen.

* * *

Hannibal was awakened the next morning at 4:30 A.M. when he heard the TV in the living room. It turned out that Murdock had found one of the early-early morning exercise shows and was trying the aerobics program.

"Well I'd say you're feeling better today," he said with a tired smirk.

That seemed to be the understatement and Murdock seemed to be his regular bouncing ball of energy self as he explained, "Oh I feel _terrific_ today, Colonel, I really feel _alive_!"

"How long have you been up?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh about half an hour," he answered, "I couldn't sleep."

Of course Hannibal would've preferred getting a couple more hours' sleep himself, but he was just glad to see Murdock up and around. Even though whatever he had yesterday wasn't anything _too_ serious, he didn't like seeing any of his men down with anything.

About three hours later there was a knock at the door, and when Hannibal answered it, Jean marched into the living room and went right past him and said, addressing the Captain, "Murdock, I'm gonna beat you."

"Uh-oh," Murdock jokingly replied as he moved for cover behind Hannibal, "What'd I do?"

"I got a call from Face 15 minutes ago," Jean told him, "He said that you left a box of stuff over at their house, which included my Iron Cross jacket, my camera, my tape recorder, and that book _Mockingbird_ that I got from the library, do you have any idea how close I came to losing my mind trying to find all that stuff yesterday, turned the whole house upside down looking and for what?"

"Oh I forgot," Murdock said as he came out from behind the Colonel, "Jean I'm sorry…"

"Now wait a minute, Jean," Hannibal told her, he decided that now was as good a time as any to fill her in about what went on yesterday before she started chewing Murdock out, "The reason Murdock didn't tell you yesterday was because…"

"No no, don't try covering for me, Colonel, this was my screw up, I forgot to tell you, Jean, I'm sorry…we'll go over, we'll pick everything up…"

"The house is still a mess," Jean said, "I didn't finish getting everything put back."

"That's alright, I'll help you get it fixed up," Murdock told her.

"Boy you're in an unusually good mood this morning," she noted, "Moreso than usual, you been drinking?"

Murdock laughed and told her, "No, I'm just glad to be out of that damn hide-a-bed, after the time I had yesterday I feel like I could climb the Matterhorn barehanded."

"You can settle for climbing the mountain of rubbish in our bedroom," Jean told him. She turned to Hannibal and asked him, "What's the matter with him?"

"What's the matter, Jean?" Hannibal asked with a smirk, "Haven't you ever seen a man who feels rejuvenated before?"

"Not like _this_," Jean said, "What's going on?"

"I'll explain it to you later," Murdock told her, "Come on, let's get out of here."

Hannibal waved them off and closed the door behind them. Yes, Murdock had been sick before when Jean was around, but usually by the time he had recovered, either she was making her own recovery from also being sick, or she was too worn out from tending to him to notice that this was generally how he acted once he was officially off bedrest. But, he knew that as time passed, Jean would become more familiar with this fact, that was one downside with them getting married, each would have plenty of chances to see the other sick and through recovery. But for now, everybody was alright and everything was good, and Murdock intended to enjoy it, and so did Hannibal.


	36. Chapter 36: Memories

36. Memories

Hannibal sat at his kitchen table late one night drinking coffee and looking through the old pictures of his family from when he was a boy. He'd spent many nights staying up looking at the old family photographs and reminiscing on those days, and he would be eternally grateful to his old friend Hector for keeping and preserving the pictures until now.

He looked at the black and white photos of his mother and father when they were young, when they were first married, and when they first had him. He found one particularly good picture of his mother from when she was probably 20, maybe 25, dressed for laughs in a flapper dress and a fur coat and some ridiculous feathered hat, all of which she had stolen from the costume department at the film studio where his father worked, and she wore it better than anyone else in his opinion.

A few nights ago, Jean had been over while she waited on Face and Murdock to get back from wherever they had gone to secure whatever it was Hannibal needed for their next assignment, and while they waited, they had a few drinks and talked about a few things. In the middle of the conversation, out of nowhere Jean had flat out asked him, "How come you never got married, Hannibal?"

It wasn't a question that was often asked, in fact he thought it was the _first_ time anybody had asked.

"What?" he asked, taken by surprise.

"I mean I get why you've been single the last 10 years or so," Jean told him, "But what about before Vietnam? Why didn't you get married sometime after you came back from Korea?"

He hadn't answered her question, and it hadn't mattered much because she was soon too intoxicated to even remember the question, or care about the answer. But it had stuck on his mind for the last few days.

Of course he knew the answer why, but it wasn't something he had ever or _would_ ever tell anybody. Taking care of his mother after getting her released from the hospital hadn't exactly been a full time job, it was safe to leave her by herself in the house during the day, but it was time enough that it didn't leave a lot of options open for Hannibal. He knew that any relationship he had could never be long term, bringing anybody home to meet Mother was definitely out of the question. It wasn't that he was ashamed of her, she couldn't help what had happened to her, but he knew that few women would be understanding enough to deal with a woman who spoke to her dead husband on an almost daily basis; at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper, sitting in the living room watching TV, she talked to John Sr. just as she always had. It wasn't all the time though, it was just here and there that she did talk to him, and there was never any way to tell when she would, and when she wouldn't.

Taking care of his mother started to require more time as the years passed, sometimes she would sit by herself and wouldn't talk to anyone, not even Hannibal, she would always turn and look at the opposite wall, as if she was deliberately trying to ignore him. Of course he knew his mother would never do something like _that_ deliberately, but there was simply no way to know what was going through her mind.

He especially felt a need to keep an eye on her when the weather got bad. As far as his memory served, his mother wasn't scared of storms, the thunder or lightning, but all the same he always made sure to check on her before going to bed for the night.

One night a storm had come up that sounded particularly bad. The wind had been howling for 2 days before the rains even came, and now the whole mess sounded like the house might be torn apart at any minute. Hannibal went into the living room and saw his mother still sitting in her rocking chair, where she'd been ever since dinner. All the lights were on bright, that was how they both preferred it, compensation now for all the times that they'd been stuck with dim gas lighting in their home when he was a kid, and the times that they didn't have any. He preferred it this way so he could see everything, make sure that there wasn't anything hiding in the shadows. He'd had enough of that growing up, all kinds of rogues lurking around every corner, trying to bust into the house because they were looking for money, or food, or a pretty young woman whose husband was out and had left her all alone. He'd grown up with all of that and each time they managed to fight off the intruders, but he'd never outgrown the feeling to check everything before turning in at night, to make sure that there weren't _still_ prowlers lurking around in the dark.

Hannibal walked into the room and over to his mother, who was calmly rocking back and forth, looking at the television set even though it wasn't on, and he kissed her on the top of her head and asked, "How you doing, Mom?"

She turned to him and answered, "I'm doing just fine, Johnny."

"You going to bed soon?" he asked.

"Oh…in a while I think," she said, "I just want to sit up a while more."

"Alright," he said as he started to leave the room.

She stopped rocking and sat up and looked to him and said accusingly, "But you're _not_ climbing into our bed tonight, you're _far_ too big for that."

Hannibal laughed, "Of course not, Mom."

"That's good," she replied, "It's crowded enough with your father as it is…" then she turned and looked over to the empty couch and said, "It is _too_, John, you _know_ you've been putting on weight, all those pork sandwiches you cook when you sneak down in the kitchen in the middle of the night, _don't_ think I hadn't noticed. And did you think I wouldn't notice that the number of beer bottles in the icebox have also been doing disappearing tricks? It's a good thing you quit vaudeville when you did, you'd _never_ be able to keep your equilibrium for your juggling act now with all the liquor you've been putting away."

Yep, just another typical night in the Smith household. Hannibal shook his head helplessly as he padded off in bare feet to his own bed for the night.

The sheets were cold when he got to his room so he lay on top of his bedspread for a while reading crime stories in the latest Alfred Hitchcock mystery magazine that had just come out. He and his mother had started watching Hitchcock's show on TV when it premiered a couple years ago, in his opinion some of the episodes left something to be desired, and whatever it was, you definitely got more of it in the magazine when there weren't the television censors to deal with. He still laughed when he remembered one episode they recently saw, that had his mother turning to look at him and saying, "Johnny, that man on TV looks just like you."

"Oh don't be silly, Mom," he replied, "He looks _nothing_ like me."

"Yes he does," she insisted. Deluded though she might be into thinking her husband was still alive, she still had most of her original wits still about her and she turned to her son and said, "Your father made the switch from vaudeville to films when films were where the real money was, _now_ movies are dying out and everybody's getting on television…maybe you ought to try that, Johnny."

"Oh Mom, don't talk like that," he remembered turning up his nose, "You'd have to be a real jerk to get a job on television, movies are _always_ going to be where the real talent is, and if the cards have it in for me, that's where I'll make my mark too, just like Pop did."

"Still," she replied, "I read that Lucille Ball makes almost $3,000 a week for her show, that would be good money, Johnny."

"Ma," Hannibal he turned to look at her, "You ought to know me better than that, if there's anything I learned from you and Pop it's that there's more that matters in life than money."

"_Still_," she repeated, "If you could do something like that, it'd have to be easier than what you're doing now, taking any job you can get to support the both of us like this…when do you have time for dates?"

"I make time, Ma."

"Not much, and don't you know how much it would mean to me to have some grandchildren before I die?" she asked.

"Ma, don't talk like that, there'll be plenty of time for that," he told her.

* * *

Of course he knew even then what he knew now all these years later, it had never been an option. Any woman who would agree to marry him would've also had to agree to have his mother live with them, and he knew no woman ever would, not with her behavior. He was always sorry that he wasn't able to give his mother grandchildren, but he was not sorry that he sacrificed starting his own family for holding onto the one he always had.

Hannibal was drawn out of his memories and sucked back into the here and now by the sound of someone knocking on the door. He shook his head and got up from the table, then crossed through to the living room and opened the door. A very old, familiar face greeted him with a coy smile.

"Hello, Johnny."

Hannibal felt his eyes grow to twice their size in shock, "Hector!"

The old man took a step into the apartment and was immediately met with a strong hug from the younger man.

"What're you doing here?" Hannibal asked him, "I thought you said you were heading to a tropical climate."

"What do you know? Penguins like the tropics too," Hector said as he walked in, "I went, Johnny, but I decided it'd be better if I came back, this _is_ where I spent the better part of my life…besides," he added with a cynical smirk, "Why would I want to be 6,000 miles away from my favorite person in the whole world?"

Hannibal followed behind Hector and stopped as the old man made his way over to the couch. He felt his eyes stinging because he truly hadn't believed he'd ever see Hector again, but he felt a large smile on his face.

"I'm glad that you came back, Hector," Hannibal said.

"I'm glad to be back, Johnny," he replied as he made himself comfortable, "You know I've been keeping an eye on you…you," he smiled, "And your boys…"

Hannibal smirked and couldn't help adding, "And two girls."

"Yes…_quite_ a pair aren't those?" Hector replied, "Hardly bookends there."

"Well, I know Murdock and B.A. don't appear to be either, but they're closer to it," Hannibal told him.

"Well," Hector said, a proud smile on his face, "I can tell you did a good job with them…I'm sure there were few commanding officers in 'Nam who could've done as superbly with their troops."

Hannibal smiled sheepishly and suddenly felt self conscious as he replied, "I tried…you know, I wonder if my folks were still alive, what…if they'd…"

Hector looked at the younger man and told him, "Your parents would be very proud of you, Johnny…regardless of what happened to you, they'd know you've always done the right thing."

"Thanks, Hector," he responded a bit hesitantly, "But I'll tell you, sometimes I don't know whether to be relieved that they didn't live to see what happened to me…this sure as hell isn't what I originally planned to do with my life."

"Then again, who gets that luxury?" Hector asked, "Johnny, I don't care what anybody says, _I_ know you guys didn't steal that money, and _I_ know that you've spent your whole life from that point on helping other people, your parents would know that too, they'd be proud because they had a _real_ hero for a son, not some run-of-the-mill medal and badges decorated hero who's all show and no convictions, not like a lot of soldiers. They're remembered for things they did in another country during wartime, but what do they do when they come back home to earn that title hero? _You_, Johnny, you and your friends are the only ones I know who have."

"Well all due respect we're a bit more resourceful than most," Hannibal said.

"Which further proves my point," Hector told him, "You could've picked the easy way out, you could've skipped the country and turned your back on it like it did on you…instead you chose to stay, and to help people that nobody else will or could. Johnny, I don't know if you'll ever get a pardon…but as long as there's any life in me I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"I appreciate it, Hector, I really do," Hannibal said, "But I'm afraid there's not much you can."

"Well…if anything should come up, you let me know," the old man responded, "So what's this? Just a typical quiet evening at home for you?"

Hannibal rubbed a hand against his face and answered, "I was going through some of the old family pictures…I can't tell you how much it means to me that you were able to save them all these years. It's good to finally have something I can remember them by."

"Strolling down ye' old memory lane, eh?" Hector asked.

Hannibal sat down beside Hector on the couch and told him, "I was thinking about a few years after I got my mother out of the hospital…once she got out, she started to look normal again…started to look like herself…started to act like her old self…if only it wasn't for her always talking to Pop…" Hannibal had felt his voice starting to break halfway through what he was saying, finally he broke loose in a full sob and covered his face with his hand.

These were things that even if he allowed himself to think of them over the years, he seldom allowed himself to feel any emotional response to them. But after so many years, he just couldn't do it anymore.

Slowly, Hannibal became aware of a slow rocking sensation, he opened his eyes and lowered his hand and realized it was Hector. When he was a kid he always remembered the man having such strong arms, even now that he was over 70 years old and skinny, he still had such a tight grip.

"It's alright, Johnny, it's alright," the old man said, just as he had so many years ago when Hannibal was a young boy, it was like time had stood still for 40 years, "I know…it was a bad situation for everyone…and I know it was especially hard on you."

Hannibal leaned against the other man and rested his head against Hector's shoulder, "I miss them so much…"

"I know you do," Hector replied sympathetically.

"It scares me, Hector," Hannibal told him, I've never said a word of this to anybody, but it scares me because I know I'm next at the head of that line…I'm over 50 years old, I'm only 7 years older than my father was when he died…my men…those guys are my boys…I can't stand the thought of leaving them, they're my family…and it would kill me if I had to bury one of them, but I just can't think what they'd do without me either."

Hector patted him on the back and said, "We all go through that, Johnny, of course it's all futile worrying about it, we'll all go when we go, not before and not after…"

Hannibal snorted and replied, "Given the stuff that occurs in our daily lives, I'm not sure if I believe that or not. Every job we take we have to accept the fact that we could die."

"But you're all still here, John," Hector reminded him, "God's not done with you or your boys yet."

Hannibal smiled weakly and remarked, "I hope not."

The phone rang, Hannibal got up and answered it, resuming his usual nonchalant tone, further proof of his superb acting skills. When he hung up he told Hector, "That was my Lieutenant, they're going to be coming over in a few minutes about a new job we have."

"Then I suppose I better get going," Hector said as he stood up, "And you better wash your face."

Hannibal glared at him mockingly, but went into the kitchen and ran a rag under the cold water and pressed it over his eyes one at a time.

"I'm staying in the city, Johnny," Hector told him, "I'll leave my card here so that if you need me, you'll know where to find me."

"I appreciate it, Hector," Hannibal said.

He walked Hector to the door and opened it just as Face got ready to grab the knob on the other side. Hector turned to Hannibal and said, "Now tell me again, young man, where do I find that airport?"

"Oh, well," Hannibal thought quickly, "Go back the way you came, and then turn right at Mr. Lee's Laundry, and then go straight ahead for three miles and turn left at the first light, you can't miss it."

"Thank you, sonny," Hector said as he headed out past the other men, "Excuse me, fellas."

"What was that about?" B.A. asked.

"Oh, that guy stopped me in the street asking for directions," Hannibal said, "Seemed about dead so I brought him up to get a drink and rest for a few minutes."

"Oh," Face said.

"So what's going on?" Hannibal asked.

"Amy called and said she got a tip on where those two bulldogs we're going after are headed tonight," Face said.

"Terrific, we'll pick up Murdock and be on our way," Hannibal told him.

"I just hope we're not getting into something more than we can handle, Hannibal," Face replied, "These guys may not exactly be the SWAT Team but they're still plenty dangerous."

"Oh relax, Face, the way I see it," Hannibal said, "This ought to be a piece of cake."

"There he goes saying that again," B.A. told Face.

"Uh-huh," Face groaned in response.

Hannibal just chuckled at their growing discomfort.


	37. Chapter 37: Bloodlines

37. Bloodlines

It was official, for however long he continued to stay at this apartment, Hannibal was _never_ going to have a night alone to himself. 9 o' clock and just when he thought all was well, he heard somebody knocking on his door. As he got up to answer it, he grumbled to himself about being glad that he was going to be moving soon, at least then if somebody wanted him they could just yell down the hall instead of come banging on his door all the time.

"What is it?" he asked as he opened the door, and a second after he said that, he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Because Jean had a tendency to get into matters that didn't involve her, or without thinking to bring backup, she was often quite a mess to see, more times than he could count she'd been a mess of blood and bruises, but _this_ just took the cake. Jean stood in his doorway, trying to manage a small, weak smile, as she stood there covered in blood pretty much from head to toe, especially on her face, and all down her jeans.

"Hi Hannibal," she said in a low voice, "Can I come in?"

"Jean!" Hannibal threw the door open, "What the hell happened to you? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she managed a small nod, then repeated, "Can I come in? I'll try not to bleed on your carpet."

Hannibal didn't get it. He let her in and looked her up and down as she stepped into the light where he could see her better. She was covered in blood but none of it seemed to be coming _from_ her.

"What happened to you?" he asked again.

"I got into a little fight," she said, "And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell Murdock about this."

"You mean he doesn't know!?" Hannibal asked.

"No, he's off with Dr. Richter, he volunteered to help take the patients on a field trip to…I don't know, some lake Murdock was talking about," Jean said, "This happened at a bar."

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah…most of this is…" Jean looked down and saw just how covered she was and she cringed, "Most of this was movie blood for show, but some of the squibs didn't stay in the right place, uh…" she looked up at him and asked, "Would you mind if I commandeered your shower? This stuff was disgusting to wear for the walk home when it was wet, but now it's starting to dry and it's _really_ getting uncomfortable."

"Sure Jean, but I expect an explanation when you get out."

"Yes sir," Jean mockingly saluted as she headed towards the bathroom.

* * *

Hannibal watched the clock. He could imagine that it would take a while to wash off half dried prop blood but still, Jean's shower was going on the better part of an hour, and he remembered she said 'most' of the blood was fake, meaning part of it was still real. He put his ear against the door and only heard the water running. He knocked on the door but heard no response. He slowly opened the door and looked in, aside from the water gushing out of the shower head there was no movement in the room.

"Jean, you alright?" he called in.

For a few seconds there was nothing, then there was movement from behind the shower curtain and it suggested to Hannibal that Jean had been sitting on the floor of the tub and pulled herself to her feet. She pulled back the curtain enough to stick her head out and she told him, "I don't think this stuff's going to come out of the rags…I've scrubbed over three times and I still have part of it on me."

Hannibal picked up a towel and handed it to her and said, "They make that stuff to look realistic, unfortunately that also means it's going to last a while."

Jean exited the shower a minute later wrapped in the towel and Hannibal could still see dark pink marks on her shoulder and arm, like a big birthmark.

"What do they make that stuff out of?" she asked.

"Well I'm not sure about the squibs themselves, but I know when they coat people in blood for _really_ violent scenes to make it look real, it's made out of red and blue food dye and caramel syrup."

"Why is so much junk food usable for blood and guts in movies?" Jean asked.

"Good question, kid," Hannibal replied, "I put some clothes out for you in the bedroom, I'll get this cleaned up in here."

Jean nodded and left the bathroom. Hannibal pulled back the curtain and saw half a dozen rags on the floor and side of the tub covered in red. He turned the water back on and wrung the rags out and watched the fake blood wash down the drain in a swirl of pink water. But then he picked up one and saw that it wasn't like the others. There was more than just streaks of red on the terrycloth rag, he unfolded it and saw black and red clots of blood as well, _these_ weren't something special effects came up with, this was real. He headed out of the bathroom and saw Jean sitting on the couch dressed and sitting hunched over with her arms brought up over her head and covering her face as one foot shook continually giving her whole leg a thumping movement.

"Jean, what happened tonight?" Hannibal asked.

She stopped thumping her foot and slowly lowered her arms and told him again, "Don't tell Murdock about this."

Boy the more time went on the more Hannibal was starting to feel like a priest, anymore everything somebody said was supposed to be in his utmost confidence.

"I won't tell him," Hannibal told her, "_If_ I don't think it's something he needs to know."

Jean shook her head and kept her gaze to the floor, "He doesn't. I didn't lie, I _was_ in a bar fight…"

"I'm listening," Hannibal said as he moved towards her.

"I didn't go into the place to get drunk," she told him.

"Well nobody's blaming you if you did, that's _why_ they're there," Hannibal said.

"I stopped in and got a coke," Jean said, "I was getting ready to come home for the night, but while I'm in there, these morons come in and start making trouble."

"With you?" Hannibal asked.

"Nobody makes trouble with me," Jean said, "They were harassing some other woman who wasn't interested, but they didn't believe in taking no for an answer. So I got in their faces and warned them to leave, they thought it was hysterical, so…I got violent with them."

"Uh huh," Hannibal said, unfazed by this revelation.

"At first it was just a regular barroom fight, you know, break a bottle over one guy's head, break a stool over another's, slam another one into the jukebox, it's all good…but they were persistent, and I left the bar, went to the car, got the squibs out, figured if this was going to be a grand melee, there was going to be plenty to see. I put them in place, went back in, and it was on…five to one ain't a lot of fun, I took down two of them pretty easily, but then the others got me, the fight moved outside, and I was knocked out."

She stopped, and Hannibal didn't push, he knew that there was more to it and he was going to let her explain it at her own pace.

"For a while I was going in and out of consciousness and I could feel something wet…at first I thought it was just the squibs and then I realized it was too much to just be that…when I came to I realized I'd been busted in the nose and that's where the blood came from. I don't know how long I was lying there, but I finally got up, heard those idiots nearby laughing, and I just went over and beat the hell out of them, managed to bust one of them in the nose as well, that's also where some of the blood came from. It took a while but they finally took the hint and left, I'm sure by the time it was over we all looked like we could've been casualties in a war movie."

Hannibal chuckled and replied, "Well, I'm sure you left a lasting impression on all of them."

"Oh I'd say that's a safe bet," she said, "Anyway, after that I just decided I'd walk back, but instead I wound up coming here."

"But you're sure you're alright?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah…" she touched her nose and said, "I had a couple more nosebleeds between there and here, and another in the shower, but at least it wasn't broken."

"True," he said, "But were you injured anywhere else that is worth noting?"

"Not really, just some bruises and stuff like that," Jean replied, "I'll be fine."

"But how're you going to explain that to Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"Well, some of them aren't in any places he's going to see," Jean pointed out, "And others…I can always say that I got roughed up on the job, I've been going back to stunts for extra work so it's definitely possible."

Hannibal nodded in agreement and said, "I can imagine how scared you must've been."

Jean shook her head, "I wasn't scared, drunken idiots don't scare me, just mad as hell…"

"I can understand that too," Hannibal told her.

Jean moved to get up and stopped in mid-step and got a pained look on her face and sat back down.

"What's the matter?" Hannibal asked.

"It's nothing," Jean said over a groan and a pained grimace.

"Come on, Jean, what's wrong?" Hannibal asked as he got up and moved towards her.

"I hurt my ribs during the fight, but I don't think it's anything serious," she said.

"Just painful," he responded, and ran a hand down her back and ribs, and watched where she responded to the touch. "I know you don't want to hear this kid but I think I'm going to have to take a look at you."

"You're right, I don't want to hear it," Jean said.

"You think you can make it to the bedroom?" Hannibal asked, "I can examine you better in there."

Jean forced herself to her feet and started walking, "Yeah, I'll make it."

Hannibal turned on the overhead lights and had Jean stand by the bed and hold still as he pulled the back of her shirt up and took a look at her.

"You've got some bruises from your shoulder blade down to the back of your ribs, does this hurt?"

Jean held still but let out a choked gasp and told him, "YES that hurts! What the hell do you think?"

"Alright, alright, take it easy," Hannibal said, "I've still got some of that blue heat gunk that the doctor left after your last examination."

With a little difficulty, Jean took her shirt off so Hannibal would have room to work, and held it against her chest as she waited. She did alright until he actually started to apply the gel to her back and then her whole body flinched forward and she said at the top of her lungs, "How can your hands be so cold when you keep them in gloves all day!?"

"Sorry," Hannibal replied, not really sounding it, "Give me a minute, I'll warm this stuff up."

Jean heard him laughing behind her and without turning around she demanded to know, "What the hell's so funny?"

"I was just remembering the time you let the MPs turn you into tenderized hamburger," he said.

"What about it?" she asked.

"You threw such a fit when I tried to examine you, I had to feel your ribs through your shirt."

"With your gloves on as I recall," Jean added.

"And when we knocked you out to examine you," he laughed, "You were a regular hellcat then when you woke up and found out."

Jean felt half a smile forming and she told him, "I didn't trust you then, I wasn't sure that I could."

"I know," Hannibal replied as he grew somber again, "You've grown up a lot since then…you've come a long way, kid, I'm proud of you."

She felt the other half of that smile starting to merge with the first half and she told him without turning around to face him, "Thanks, Hannibal."

"Okay, we'll try this again," he told her, and reapplied the medicated gel on her bruises.

Jean managed to hold still but still flinched as she felt the stuff touching her where it was hurting her to breathe. Then she felt her spine go stiff when she felt the strap of her bra being pushed down her shoulder. "Hey!"

"Sorry, kid," Hannibal said, "Gotta get this spot too…when you go all out in a fight you _really_ go all out, don't you?"

Jean groaned as he touched that particular bruise and replied, "I think that was when I got slammed against the bar, but I'm not sure." She fidgeted and added, "But don't tell Murdock, he doesn't need to know about this, he'd just worry."

Hannibal chuckled to himself, her words almost perfectly mirrored Murdock's from a few days ago.

"Don't worry, Jean," he told her, "Your secret's safe with me. So…how bad were the others by the time the fight broke up?"

"Well," she said, "I think the final count was 2 busted noses, 5 busted ribs, 3 missing teeth, and…oh, two large broken toes."

Hannibal shrugged and said, "Well all in all it sounds like a good night's work."

Jean got out a couple of short laughs before she hissed in a breath of air and told him, "Don't make me laugh, Hannibal."

"Alright, you can put your shirt back on now," he told her.

"About time," she groaned.

"So," he asked her as she got dressed again, "What're your plans now?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, why?"

Hannibal consulted his watch and told her, "It's late, you left your car back at the bar…and Murdock's out of town for the weekend, why don't you stay here for the night? Then we'll swing by the bar tomorrow and you can pick up your car then."

Jean shook her head, "Oh no, thanks but, I don't want to put you out."

"Too late," he told her.

Jean shrugged and replied, "Alright…"

* * *

Hannibal had had a lot of rude wakeup calls in his time; bugles in the Army, or sometimes shells dropping, gunfire, people screaming, and back in civilization things like garbage men who came by at 4 in the morning, or traffic that sounded like every car in the street below dropped its muffler, and on occasion Murdock yelling as he leapt with both feet into his latest psychosis or persona. That morning he woke up when he could hear Jean moaning and whining next to him in the bed.

He found the bedside lamp and turned it on to see what was the matter and saw her side of the bed was covered in blood and so were her pajamas. Apparently they'd _both_ had a rude wakeup call this morning; she'd had another nosebleed in the night and only woke up in time to notice it was already half dried, and then it started up all over again. After several Kleenex and five minutes of pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the bleeding, Hannibal had her go in the bathroom and get cleaned up while he changed the sheets. Once that was done, he went into the bathroom where Jean had finished changing her clothes and he dug around in the medicine cabinet until he found a jar of petroleum jelly and told her, "Put some of that up your nose, that ought to help stop it from happening again."

"What makes you so sure of that?" she asked.

"I got into a lot of fights as a kid," he said simply.

"Is _that_ why your nose looks like that?" she asked coyly.

"Ha-ha," he remarked.

"Hmm," Jean scratched the top of her head.

"What?" Hannibal asked.

"Just wondering, do you think that's why Decker's nose is so _big_?" she asked him.

Hannibal laughed and told her, "I hadn't noticed."

"Hadn't noticed?" Jean repeated, "Hannibal, the man looks like he caught a doorknob with his face, _hadn't_ noticed!"

Hannibal laughed so hard from her little outburst that he couldn't breathe. The phone in the living room rang and he went to answer it.

"Hello? …Murdock!" he said as he looked to Jean, "How's Crystal Lake? Uh-huh…well that sounds great…oh she's here…yeah I guess you could say we've just been having a swell time here." He caught the amused look Jean gave him. "Uh-huh…okay, have fun with the doc, okay, bye-bye."

Jean folded her arms tightly against her and walked over to Hannibal with large, slow steps and she told him, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not telling him the truth," she said.

"What?" Hannibal asked, feigning innocence, "We're not having a good time here?"

Jean laughed and told him, "You've got a warped idea of fun."

"One of my more endearing qualities," he replied.


	38. Chapter 38: Happy Birthday

38. Happy Birthday

Hannibal laid still and waited for the movement of the mattress to stop as the other occupant of the bed tossed and turned and rolled over and punched his pillow, trying to get comfortable, and all it seemed to no avail. When the fine imitation of rough waves on the sea stopped, he couldn't help asking, "Problem, Lieutenant?"

"No," Face replied from the other side of the bed, "Everything's fine…I just can't get comfortable."

Hannibal jerked when he felt the mattress sag in the middle as Face rolled over onto his other side and made a dip in the center of the mattress.

"I'm glad that my room's coming already furnished, I can leave this thing behind for the next poor sap who gets this place," he said.

Face didn't respond and tried burying his face in the pillows. He'd been in a bad mood all day, and Hannibal knew why, but he said nothing. He decided to let the Lieutenant work through this on his own, and so far he was doing just as expected, _not_ working through it. This had been a most uneventful evening except for the fact that Face was here with him. Murdock and B.A. hadn't been over to his apartment that day, for which Hannibal was glad because he knew right now that Face didn't want to see either one of them very much, and again Hannibal knew why. They'd been dancing around this circle for over 10 years and it seemed they always would, but Hannibal figured one of these years they'd finally break the Lieutenant of this annoying habit.

Face spent another fifteen minutes readjusting his position on the bed until Hannibal was just about seasick, before he finally seemed to have found a spot he was comfortable in, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Well," Hannibal said quietly to himself as he pulled up the covers, "That went better than I thought."

But he immediately changed his mind when he looked over and saw that Face had indeed fallen asleep, and with the dim light shining in from the lamp in the street, Hannibal saw the Lieutenant had fallen asleep with his face buried in the pillow, but still not enough to hide the silent tears that had rolled down his face in his sleep. Hannibal reached over and gently patted Face on the back, and then settled down on his own side for the night.

* * *

It had rained during the night, there had also been the occasional thunder and lightning, some of it very bright and very loud, but Face slept through it all while Hannibal stayed awake and listened to the elements outside.

He laid on his back on his own side of the bed and looked up at the ceiling, every so often pulling his arm out from under his head and checking his wristwatch. Finally when it neared 5 A.M., Hannibal slowly sat up, pushed back the covers, crept to his feet and tiptoed out of the bedroom and out to the living room. He heard sounds coming from the other side of the front door and he undid the bolt and opened it up to let everybody in. Several sets of feet padded towards the bedroom and several low giggles were futilely choked back or suppressed before a warning 'shhhh' silenced them all.

Hannibal was the first one back in the bedroom, he stood with his finger at the light switch, just waiting for the right moment to flip it up. He waited until everybody else had sneaked in behind him and then he threw on the lights.

"Up and at 'em, Lieutenant! That's an order!" Hannibal barked.

Face's eyes snapped open and he tried to turn over onto his back to get up but something heavy pinned him down. B.A. sat on his back, careful not to put his full weight down or he'd snap Face's spine like a potato chip, just enough to make sure that he couldn't get up and couldn't wriggle loose.

"Time for your birthday spankings, Facey," Murdock said as he came up with a thin board in both hands and swung it up and swatted it down against Face's backside.

"Yeouch!"

"One, two, three, four, five," Murdock counted and then moved out of line and handed it to Amy, who took over.

"Six, seven, eight nine, ten," Amy counted as she swatted him like a jumbo fly, then passed the board to Jean.

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…" instead of moving out of line, Jean leaned over and asked him, "By the way, Face, _how_ old are you?"

Face was too busy groaning and digging his feet into the mattress to try and maneuver himself out from under B.A., with no luck.

"We have him listed as being 38 today," Hannibal said as he took the board from Jean, "So we'll have to step it up."

"Hannibal!" Face yelled.

Hannibal ignored him and continued with the swattings, "Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…Murdock."

Murdock came back, took the board and continued again, "Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five."

Amy came back around and took another turn, "Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."

"YEOUCH!"

Jean came back behind Amy and added, "Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five." Then handed the board to Hannibal.

Hannibal swung the board and counted off, "Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight!" Then he drew back, only to swat Face one more time unexpectedly and told him, "And one to grow on!"

B.A. got up so Face was actually able to move now, he rolled over on his side and was groaning and huffing and puffing and his whole face was turning red as he glared at them all like he'd like to bury them.

"It could be worse, Face," Murdock told him, "You could be 50."

"Or we could'a drilled holes in the board to cut down on wind resistance," B.A. pointed out.

"Or we could've just let B.A. use his hands," Jean added.

"Or they could've taken your pants down like a little kid," Amy added with a smirk on her face.

"My mother believed in 10 extras to grow on," Hannibal said with a small smirk, "And an extra 5 on top of that: one was incase I did something wrong and she wasn't around to see it, the second one was incase I already _did_ something and she didn't know, the third was incase I liked whatever it was, the fourth was incase she forgot to spank me before for it, and the fifth was an advance on next time."

Face groaned and reached around with both hands to rub his backside which no doubt was as red as his face and sighed. "You guys are worse than the nuns at the orphanage."

"Alright, now that that's over, let's get your birthday under way," Hannibal said.

Everybody moved out of the bedroom and went to the coffee table in the living room to pick up the presents they'd brought for Face, who just watched everybody leave and followed after them, completely dumbstruck.

"What's going on here?" Face asked.

Hannibal turned back to him and grinned, "Well come on, Face, you didn't really think we'd forget your birthday, did you?"

This was another aspect of their lives that most outsiders would not get. When one of the men on your team was an orphan, and to boot one who just walked into the orphanage when he was five years old, no mother, no father, nobody who could fill the priests and nuns in on any of the details, how did you establish a time to acknowledge as his birthday? To not have one was simply out of the question, Hannibal wouldn't have any of that. Of course there was always the idea of celebrating the date in which Face joined Hannibal's troops in Vietnam, since it was the end of his old life and the beginning of his new one. But as it had turned out, there had actually been a date established by the priests at St. Bartholomew's Orphanage as Templeton Peck's birthday, but it wasn't the day he walked into the place. Instead, though there wasn't much money in the place, the old priests did make an effort to acknowledge a 'birthday' for each child as establishing a bit of 'normalcy' in their already confusing lives, and for Templeton they picked a date in a 'slow' month when there weren't a lot of other children celebrating so it was easier to remember. As it turned out, for St. Bartholomew's, about the slowest month they had in that regard was April. So they carried on with this tradition, of course now that Face was an adult he met each coming birthday with initial resistance and borderline depression, of course that always changed once they got together and got the celebration started.

Face wasn't sure what to say. He _had_ figured that they'd forgotten; he'd made no mention of the upcoming date in hopes that everybody _would_ forget, but when it seemed they actually had he'd felt even _more_ depressed that they would. He should've known though, they'd been doing this enough years, _why_ would they forget now, just because it wasn't official? And he felt like a real idiot for doubting their memory, he especially would when he sat down for the rest of the day too.

Everybody got in line and picked up their present for Face, and everybody had something large and colorfully wrapped with them, all for show he was sure, otherwise it looked like he was going to get about 5 small television sets.

"Alright, who's going first?" Hannibal asked.

Usually Murdock would be bopping up and down doing his Horseshack imitation going 'ooh ooh ooooohhhh!', but this time he held onto the present in one hand like he was palming a basketball and said, "I'll wait till last." Face wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Fine, _I'll_ go first," B.A. said as he went over to Face and shoved the wrapped box into his hands.

Face couldn't resist shaking it to try and get a handle on what it was, he couldn't tell, "Don't tell me, B.A., is this going to be like last time when you gave me a basketball that exploded?"

B.A. growled and told him, "Just open it, fool."

Face ripped at the paper and lifted the flaps on the box and said, "I was right!" and pulled out a new basketball, "What'd you do this time, B.A., put firecrackers in it?"

"No," B.A. told him and pointed out, "All the kids at the center signed it to thank you for coming in and helping out."

Face was flabbergasted. "Ah…gee, I don't know what to say, B.A., thank you."

Murdock couldn't resist poking B.A. in his protruding stomach and saying, "How come when I helped out at the center, all I got was turned into a maypole?"

"Because you' a crazy fool, that's why," B.A. told him.

Murdock pouted.

"My turn," Amy said as she moved to the head of the line and handed her present to Face.

"I can just imagine," Face said as he carefully removed the paper, "Knowing you, probably a hoard of attack scorpions just waiting to sting as soon as I open the box."

"No fair, that's what I got you," Jean said.

Face took the lid off the box and picked up a brand new black blazer.

"It should fit perfectly," Amy said, "I had it measured by one of your jackets."

Face slipped it on and saw how it fit him and he smiled at her and said, "This is really great, Amy, thanks," and went over to hug her.

Jean pushed to the front and said in a singsong tone as she held her present up over her head, "My-y-y-y turrrrn!"

"I can hardly wait," Face groaned as he took her present and opened it up.

For a minute he thought he'd fallen for one of Jean's jokes that only she thought was funny, he opened the large box and didn't see anything in it. He looked clear down into the bottom and saw a rectangular piece of paper. He pulled it out and saw it was a pass to an upcoming car show. He looked at Jean questioningly and she explained, "I figured seeing as how you can talk anybody into anything you ought to be able to talk one of those models who sit on the cars into a date, hence only one ticket, I can just imagine the havoc that would ensue if Murdock went with you."

"Hey!" Murdock replied.

Hannibal chuckled and told her, "Alright Jean, I'm next, get out of the way."

Face wasn't sure what to expect from Hannibal of all people, once more he shed the layer of decorative paper onto the floor and opened the box. And this time he pulled out a framed photograph of a upright piano that had a nice varnish job to protect the dark brown coloring of the wooden body.

"Okay…" Face looked at Hannibal with a confused expression, "What is it?"

"Well we couldn't very well bring the whole piano here to show you, could we?" Murdock asked.

"We all went in on it," Jean explained, "Hannibal saw it in a shop and said that it would be perfect for the new house given how well you play."

Face looked at the picture of the piano again in disbelief. It was true that was one hobby he'd picked up over his younger years, and he _did_ enjoy it, but he certainly hadn't had too many opportunities over the past several years other than any place he could scam that already came with one in the house somewhere.

"Aw geez, Hannibal…I don't know what to say," Face said.

"That seems to be a running gag today," Murdock commented.

"Shut up you crazy fool," B.A. told him, "Why don't you take a lesson from the Faceman and be quiet for once?"

Murdock stuck his tongue out at the mudsucker in response.

"Hey, it's Murdock's turn," Jean said.

"Oh yeah," Murdock picked up his box and marched to the head of the line and gave it to Face and said, "I think you're really gonna like it, Facey."

"Murdock, if you picked it out, I'll love it," Face said as he tore off a large strip of paper from the top and moved for the box lid immediately. This box was a bit heavier than the others had been.

"I hope so," Murdock said as he shoved his hands into his sleeves to cover the fact that he was crossing his fingers.

Face removed the lid from the box, looked in at the contents, and about dropped the box completely, and his heart about followed suit all the way down to his stomach. In the box was a very old scrapbook with a very well worn cover that looked like it might've been leather once upon a time, but who could tell anymore? But he recognized it. With one shaking hand, he reached in and pulled it out, and ran his hand over the cover as if he was trying to place the feel of the old book. He opened it up and everybody saw what he did, the book was full of the old Dick Tracy detective strips from the late 40s and early 50s and the Crimestoppers' textbook strips.

"Oh my God, Murdock," Face said as he finally managed to pry his eyes off the scrapbook and up at his best friend, "How did you ever find this? Where did you find it?"

"Courtesy of a couple of old priests at St. Bartholomew's Orphanage," Murdock answered, "Father O'Malley called the house when you were out last week and said that he and Father Magill had been going through some old boxes in a storage room, and they found a bunch of stuff they thought they'd lost years ago."

Face felt his knees turn to jelly and his eyes rolled back in his head a split second before he hit the floor and passed out, Amy screamed in surprise and everybody crowded around him to see what had happened.

* * *

"Hannibal, Face still ain't awake yet," Murdock whined.

Hannibal washed down his second piece of cake with a cup of coffee and told the Captain, "That's alright, we'll save him a piece of the cake."

After his initial fainting spell, Face had regained consciousness long enough to get his head bandaged up, and to get the candles on his cake lit and blown out, but immediately afterward he had taken back to Hannibal's bed and was sleeping off the blow he'd sustained in the fall. Hannibal had to admit, the Lieutenant _did_ look kind of cute curled up newly reunited with the old teddy bear he'd had as a kid. That too had seen better days, though Murdock had managed to get it cleaned up a bit before putting it in the box with the scrapbook. A pitiful thing, one eye was faded away to just the white, one ear was half chewed off, and he had stuffing come out of all his seams. Fortunately Hannibal knew of a place in the city that worked on restoring old toys and he was sure they could get an appointment squeezed in for Face's teddy bear, if he was going to be hauling it around with him when he went to bed at night, they couldn't have it looking like _that_ long term, but for right now it would have to do because asleep Face maintained a grip on that bear like the slogan about guns, 'You can have it when you peel my cold dead fingers from around it'.

Well, of them all it seemed _this_ birthday provided the most shock for Face, but at the same time Hannibal thought it was one of the better ones for the Lieutenant. Murdock's present had certainly been a hell of a shock, but a good one, after so many years somebody had managed to dig up part of Face's past and return it to him, something that nobody else could do. Nobody but one crazy pilot and two softhearted old priests.

Hannibal got up from the kitchen table, tiptoed over to the bedroom and poked his head in and saw Face still asleep, curled on his side, hugging his bear against him, with a small smile on his face. Yes, it seemed that, unorthodox though it definitely was, more so than birthdays among the Team members usually went, this was definitely a good birthday for Face.


	39. Chapter 39: The Last Night

39. The Last Night

Author's note: One more chapter left after this.

It was often said that in California there are only two seasons; instead of spring, summer, fall and winter there's rainy and dry. If ever there seemed to be any truth to that statement, it sure seemed to be especially present lately. Hannibal stood at the kitchen window and gazed out and watched the rain pouring down in the street light.

Here they were at the last night he would be spending in his apartment. Tomorrow they would pack up everything and he would officially move out and go to join B.A. and Face at the house. But first, everybody had come over for one last night at the old apartment. As Hannibal made his way back to the bedroom, he crept past the three occupants on the hide-a-bed. The only way they'd ever get Jean to bunk with B.A. would be if Murdock was with them. And vice versa. Murdock had requested bunking with his blood brother, and B.A. had been less than pleased with that idea, but once Jean offered to stay with them, that helped cool B.A.'s temper a bit. Hannibal went to the window and opened the venetian blind to let the light outside shine in so he could see them better.

Not exactly three peas in a pod. B.A. was over on his side of the bed, Murdock likewise lay on his back on his own side, and Jean lay half on top of Murdock. As different in all ways as these three people were, it amused Hannibal to no end that each of their breathing patterns seemed to mimic the others' perfectly. Outside the rain poured down, in here it was dry and just slightly cool and nobody paid any attention, they were all lost to dark oblivion and their dreams. B.A. had managed to steal part of the covers from the other side of the bed but Murdock didn't notice because he had Jean on top of him to keep him warm, and Jean had one of the sheets pulled up near her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched high above her head and right over Murdock's shoulder, and her right hand was balled up and brought up near her mouth, Hannibal found this particularly amusing, like a little baby trying to stick its whole fist into its mouth as it slept. He quietly moved to the closet that had already been emptied out for the move tomorrow; now the extra bedding was just in a pile on the floor. He picked up two large blankets and used them to drape over the three people on the couch, then he moved to the bedroom.

And in here the sleeping arrangements were crowded as well. Hannibal didn't know if Face and Amy had planned to fall asleep together in his bed, but it had happened all the same and now they took up the spot that he usually slept in. When Face had rolled over in his sleep, Amy had followed subconsciously, only instead of spooning against him, she was using his back as a pillow, their own side of the bed was nice and crowded and the sleeping arrangements a bit crooked, but apparently it would work for the night.

Hannibal recalled a time the previous December when he and Murdock and Jean all slept in this bed, and that had been as crowded as a sardine can, any time either of them moved in their sleep he couldn't breathe. Thankfully Amy was a bit skinner than Jean was so maybe that would help, also they were both over on one side, at least now he'd have one whole side of the bed to himself. First, he drew the covers up on them as well, they never moved. He went over to the other side of the bed and slipped in, careful to put his weight against the mattress inch by inch so the sudden movement and the sound of the creaky springs didn't get them up either. Finally he was able to sink back and relax against the pillows.

Outside the storm seemed to be picking up and the rain just beat against the windows harder than before, and he could hear the wind starting to howl now. Bah, he thought, let it go ahead and blow, it was out there, and they were in here, and it couldn't touch them.

Still, he thought as he sank against the mattress and gazed up at the dark ceiling. Still it took him back. He remembered all the storms they had every summer when he was a kid, hell, even in the winter they had bad storms. He remembered all the times he was jerked awake in the middle of the night by a sudden crash of thunder, and then that blinding white light coming in through the windows. How anybody could sleep through all of that was beyond him as a kid, and even now he couldn't understand how some people could never wake up during that particular variety of weather. Like clockwork, every time a bad storm came up when he was a kid he'd jump out of his bed and run helter-skelter down the hall to his parents' bedroom and jump in with them. For the most part they were either very understanding or just didn't mind, they never threw him out, always moved over and adjusted as he crawled in between them.

He almost suppressed the small laugh that escaped him. He'd never truly gotten used to sleeping alone. First it was close quarters with his parents, and then it was the even closer quarters of the army life in a war zone with these three guys, and even when they returned to civilization, as long as at least two of them were together, it was rare to get through a night with them staying in separate beds. Murdock was certainly the least inhibitive of them all in that regard, though Face was a close second. Though thinking back now, Hannibal realized he should've come to the conclusion that he needed a bigger bed the times Murdock had a nightmare and joined Hannibal and Face for the night. Fortunately though those times were few and far between, usually he was just stuck with sharing his bed with one person for the night.

Out in the open was always a different matter, when they were on a mission and forced into hiding out in the open, no matter how the night started, it usually ended with the whole bunch of them practically sleeping on top of each other, like a bunch of rabbits sleeping in a burrow. Hmmm, he stopped to think, rabbits, he recalled a brief conversation he'd had a while back involving the film "Watership Down".

"_Watership Down isn't a sad movie."_

"_I wish you'd tell Murdock that, he saw it once and cried all night."_

Once again, Murdock had been staying with him at the time that happened. It was on one of the cable channels late at night, and he'd talked Hannibal into staying up and watching it with him. He hadn't been sure, a cartoon movie…but he'd agreed and watched most of it with the Captain, and he'd been surprised. Whoever came up with the idea of cartoon movies that were in no way intended for children was an evil genius. But all the same Hannibal wanted to find the guy responsible and beat him to death, as a result Murdock stayed up all night bawling his eyes out and went through a whole box of Kleenex. For a week afterwards when they were on a particularly dangerous mission he kept talking about each of them having their own black rabbit that was going to come for them someday.

Boy, Hannibal sighed to himself, it seemed he never felt more like a father than at night. Only natural he supposed, night was when everything came out you didn't want to deal with during the day, and that included all the fears you harbored and tried to convince yourself that you didn't think about, but you did think about and that's why you never got any sleep at night because that's when everything you don't want to think about is weighing on your mind like a truckload of cinder blocks. He'd gone through it with all of them, usually one at a time but on a few occasions he'd taken them all together at once, it wasn't easy always being the voice of reasoning and reassurance, but he had to do it and he did do it, gladly, because that was a part of his job as the father figure that he took very seriously. They depended on him during training, they depended on him during the war, and after the arrest, after they broke out, even once they got back home they depended on him, he'd never let them down before and he was damned if he was going to start now.

He turned his head to the side and laughed to himself as he saw those two sandwiched together. He reached over and lightly patted the top of Face's hair and watched as the Lieutenant tried turning on his side, but couldn't, but didn't make the connection that it was because he had something on his back. Having children was certainly never a boring experience. Of course given a choice, he would've preferred having his own, but if he had to get three dropped on him at once, at least they already came housebroken.

Out of nowhere, a quote occurred to him, one that he had heard several times in his life. Right off hand he didn't know why Peter Pan was Murdock's favorite story, he supposed though because for as great a time as Murdock had in the cockpit, the only thing that could've surpassed it would be the chance to fly without an aircraft. Then again didn't they all feel like that as kids? Hell, that was one reason superheroes were the big hit they were.

He also had that book as a child, he didn't remember his mother reading it to him, rather he remembered reading bits and pieces of it himself when he first learned how to read. Either he never got to the end, or somebody had condensed his book; because he never remembered the return many years later after Wendy had grown up and had Jane. But he certainly remembered from Murdock's countless readings of it, at the end, when Wendy asked to be taken with them, what was it Peter had said?

_You can't, Wendy, you're too grown up_.

Ah, _that_ was what had stuck out in his mind, not _all_ grown up, _too_ grown up, there _was_ a difference, he had always figured there was but he never dwelt on it too much to determine what exactly it meant. Whatever the difference was, the way he saw it, his three boys were standing in that circle of 'all', not 'too', while it was true none of his boys were too _young_ for anything, he also knew that there were a lot of things that they were not now nor would they ever be too _old_ for either, too _grown_ up for. He glanced over at the Lieutenant sleeping beside him again and he knew that this was just one of those many things. For that matter he knew _he_ never would either, and he knew that he wouldn't have it any other way. He shifted under the covers and pulled them up higher, and closed his eyes, hearing only the sound of the rain pouring down outside, and inside here, it was warm and quiet, _comfortable_…_safe_ because none of them were alone…and that was the way he preferred it. Yes, he knew that things were going to be slightly different once he moved tomorrow, but he didn't foresee that being a problem for any of them, him especially.


	40. Chapter 40: Moving Day

40. Moving Day

Author's note: Many thanks to the readers for their reviews and their suggestions regarding certain chapters.

Well, here they were. Hannibal Smith sat in his favorite chair in the living room of his apartment for the last time, and took a final long look around at the place. It was a dump, had been ever since he moved in, ever since he'd had to relocate when Lynch got back on their tail back in '83. But the fact remained that it had been _his_ dump, _his_ home, and he'd made a good one of it while it lasted. And now it was all over, now they had gotten everything he was going to take with him packed up and the others were waiting for him downstairs. But he'd stayed behind for a few more minutes for one last look around at the place.

Life is what happens when you're not looking, and it seemed to Hannibal that a whole lot of it had happened right here in this low rent dive. He looked around at the walls, the windows, every single cobweb that he'd never bothered dusting, as if he didn't want to forget one detail of this place. Homes were hard to come by for wanted fugitives, especially one that could last more than a few weeks. Him in this crummy little apartment had outlasted all of Face's scammed penthouses and mansions, and every apartment and motel room B.A. had been in and out of for the last two years. Murdock was the only one who had outlasted all of them in the way of permanent residence, and considering where his was, that didn't strike Hannibal as saying too much.

There'd been a lot of times spent here by all four of them, both good and bad. A lot of nights with two people bunking in the bedroom and two on the hide-a-bed, sometimes somebody wound up on the floor instead, or on a cot. Hannibal laughed as he recalled the time he woke up to find everybody else had fallen asleep in a dogpile on the floor waiting to see if he was going to live or die after getting shot while escaping Decker and the MPs. He also remembered pulling them off one by one and putting them all to bed, Jean had fallen asleep using B.A.'s thigh as a pillow, Murdock had fallen asleep on top of her and Face had fallen asleep on top of him. So he'd stuck those three in the bed and put B.A. on the couch, and none of them were the wiser.

Hannibal tilted his head back and laughed as he also remembered the first time they'd brought Jean here. What a night that had been; they'd found her in the middle of the road, with no clothes on, beaten up, covered only in a sheet, and knocked unconscious. They'd brought her up here, he'd examined her on the kitchen table, insofar as she would allow anyway. Then he carried her into the bedroom so she could rest for the night, and what a time that had been.

"_Murdock, look at this!" Jean said cynically, "Tarzan, the white Ape strikes again, stalking the wild jungles of Zanzibar for the pretty young native girls to take captive, so what the hell he wants with me I'll never know." Hannibal readjusted his hold so she was slung over his shoulder and she commented, "Tell me, Hannibal, did you ever consider becoming a fireman?"_

"_I always considered the profession to be a tad boring,"_

And he remembered the next morning, Murdock had tried giving her a haircut to fix what her assailants had done to her hair, and she wound up looking a lot like B.A. But, she'd been a good sport about it, and eventually it had grown back, but still, when he thought about those two getting married and her having that Mohawk as the Justice of the Peace performed the ceremony, he just had to laugh.

Oh boy, things had certainly changed a hell of a lot for all of them in the past year, ever since they first found out Jean had moved out to Los Angeles, from there everything had just snowballed. He was still trying to wrap his mind around just what order everything had occurred in. Let's see, she and Murdock had been married for a week before anybody found out, got married on the same day Murdock had been released from the V.A., this was due to a long talk they'd both had with Dr. Richter after the day nurse caught them in Murdock's bed together. He still remembered the conversation they'd had the day before that happened, she'd had to rush Murdock back when they found out Decker was heading to the hospital to see Murdock, and when she found out they weren't going to go back and get him immediately afterwards, she had been furious.

The more Hannibal thought about it, he realized that if he could've hand picked the woman Murdock would marry, he probably couldn't find a more likely candidate than that kid, however unlikely she was. He still wasn't sure he got it. He knew what they all knew, the first marriage had just been a front for security measures, but he just couldn't buy it…there _had_ to have been something between them in the first place for them to even think of a thing like that. But what? Anytime Jean was exposed to Murdock at that time it was usually with the rest of them around, and he knew that she had never gone to visit him at the hospital before they found out she was in town. Oh well, he supposed it was just one of those mysteries of the universe they were never going to find out. Besides, it didn't really matter now, _now_ they knew that these two were genuinely in love and were going to be married again.

His thoughts started drifting again when that came to mind. This place had been the scene where that happened as well. Now that was a time he _knew_ he was _never_ going to forget, no matter how long he lived. He shook his head as he remembered them coming back here after they just barely managed to rescue Jean from the Viet-Cong soldiers who'd busted into her house and kidnapped her, locking her in a freezer until she had just about frozen to death because she wouldn't tell them where the A-Team was. He remembered sitting up after everyone else had gone to bed, looking at them all and knowing that the nightmare was finally over, Jean was safe and life was going to return to whatever they could pass off as normal. And he remembered dragging B.A. out of bed to finish Jean's 'engagement' ring, an imitation Captain Midnight decoder ring that set off a distress signal when she set the dial right. And for once he had taken the lead on the matter instead of leaving it to Murdock and he'd popped the question for the pilot, that had been the start of their official, and _only_ engagement. What a concept, he thought, to get married without an engagement, to get the marriage annulled, then engaged again to the same person, and _then_ start dating. Hell, he thought, maybe more couples ought to try a process like that, maybe then the divorce rate would drop. It would definitely be a more eye opening experience with your spouse.

He was also pleased with himself as he recalled that it was also here in this cheap apartment that they'd had a good amount of fun with Colonel Briggs, who had temporarily relieved Decker of his job as head pursuer of the A-Team. Once he was out cold they'd gotten him jam packed into an extra large pink brassiere for some photos that weren't going to do him any favors with his superiors, and Murdock had had the presence of mind to stuff the man's cheeks and mouth with cotton so it looked like he was smiling at the time the pictures were taken. Ooh that had been a particularly eventful night, and even now he couldn't help laughing at the memories of it all.

"_If this doesn't get him the boot, nothing will," Jean noted._

"_Oh I don't know," Face said, "I was thinking a nice little affair hitting the papers would put him in a fine mess."_

_Jean shook her head and said, "Sex scandals only affect politicians and clergymen, not government or military officials, but one of their few and proud decked out in women's pink lacey underthings, now __that's__ going to get him tossed out on his head. It's only too bad we don't have time to get another picture with him in a dress."_

"_Especially if we could do it next to a sign that says 'Toronto: population 2 million'," Murdock added._

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and tried to think of all the eventful things that had happened in this place. All the times Murdock had stayed here when he was on absent leave from the V.A., all the times they'd returned here after a mission was completed or after they managed to give the MPs the slip, how many times they'd met here to reconnoiter about what their next step was, what the new plan was. Considering he was hardly ever home during the day and only got back usually late at night, there had been a hell of a lot taking place at this apartment, and he'd never realized just how much until now.

It had never been declared official, but this was more or less their headquarters, this was where they came to discuss missions, this was where everybody came to get patched together again and to recover when a mission was done, this was where everybody came to sleep for the night when tensions were running high about the job, or life in general. It wasn't just _his_ home, they'd all left a piece of themselves here over the years. And come tomorrow, some new sap was going to move in here and put their own life in this place, never knowing what was left behind from the previous tenant, and it would be like none of those events had ever happened. Except, Hannibal knew, _they_ would know what had happened, and that was all that mattered.

His mind started wandering again and he thought back to when his parents were alive. He remembered the day he joined the Army, he remembered breaking the news to them. His parents were not what was called overly patriotic, hmmm, maybe that should've been a sign, foreshadowing of the things to come between he and his own country.

He could still remember his mother hugging him and telling him not to go.

"Mom," he'd said, "I have to, there's a draft."

"30 million families in this country, they can find someone else," she told him, "They don't need you, Johnny."

"Mom, it's something that I have to do," he told her, never realizing that this was the end of everything.

He hadn't wanted to admit it to them, he was starting to have second doubts as well, but he knew it was something that he couldn't get out of. There was initial hesitance to leave the home he'd known all his life, and his parents who he'd never been away from more than a couple days, but he figured all these things would be there waiting for him when he got back. Instead, he came back to find his father dead in the ground, the home he'd grown up in burnt to the ground, and his mother locked up in an insane asylum. He'd gotten his mother out and tried to rebuild their lives, but about a dozen years later when Vietnam was the new war that was plucking up every available young man to go and die for his country under the pretense of it being a patriotic duty, he'd also buried his mother and this time didn't care if he came back because he had nothing to come back to, and nobody to come back for.

He'd left with nothing, and returned with three men who meant more than anything in the world to him, and who needed him more than anything or anyone else.

Where the government was concerned, they weren't any better off than when they first sneaked back into America back in 1972, but he knew they were a hundred times better off by now. It had taken a little while to get things rolling but they were certainly getting there now: Murdock was out of the V.A., and certifiably released so he couldn't be taken back and also couldn't be looked at as a fugitive, he could now come and go as he pleased, instead of the fights they'd had in the beginning about him going back to the hospital. Also in their favor, Lynch had been replaced with Decker, which meant they had to work harder at getting away each time, but deep down Hannibal knew they always would; Lynch was dumb enough to try and get them locked up, but they would always get away from Decker because Hannibal knew the man lived for the chase and if he didn't have that he'd probably wind up shooting himself. Also since their return to their native country, they'd made a few friends that they knew they could count on, there were whole volumes to be said about that alone. He knew that when Amy Allen had initially hired them that he had been particularly mean to her for her just being a client. Of course he'd had his reasons, B.A. didn't like cops, didn't like working for them, and Hannibal felt the same way about reporters because anybody who ever wrote about them made them sound like a new rendition of the Barrow gang or something.

Hmm…his mind was just scattered all over the place today. He remembered reading about Bonnie and Clyde in the newspapers when he was a kid, and at the time it had seemed so horrible, but then he got a little older, and he'd had the presence of mind to ask _how_ does it take a whole _gang_ of people 2 years to kill a total of 10 people, _maybe_ 14? For all their notoriety and their guns and the members' extensive usage of them, it seemed they went out of their way as often as possible to avoid killing people, especially innocent civilians, the only ones with a real target on them were either policemen, or other inmates who had brutalized the prisoners when the Barrow brothers were locked up. It had taken him several years to put it all together like that, but he'd still been relatively young when he came up with the first part of this train of thought, and he'd gotten the beating of his life when he'd said what he was thinking; apparently some people thought the Barrow gang were the worst people who had ever lived.

Oh, he knew that they were guilty of a lot of things, 10 or 14 was still a lot of murders to be guilty for, and he made no excuses for what had gone on back then, but still... Funny, he couldn't help remembering...his parents always spoke volumes about people who had lived, and some who died, long before Hannibal was ever born, he remembered hearing about H.H. Holmes, who murdered close to 200 people in his home…he remembered them talking about a nurse who was arrested at the turn of the century for killing 35 patients and she had gone on record saying she wanted to kill as many helpless people as possible. Time forgot about these people, but a revolving door of young people who at best managed to kill 5 people a year in getaways and police shootouts, were painted to be the biggest monsters who ever lived. It hadn't taken little Johnny Smith long to figure out that unlike Hollywood's products, the world was not black and white. He believed in prioritizing who was the worst by the body count they left behind, the reasons why they did, and also what was done in between kills, but even today, no doubt courtesy of that movie made in the 60s, people _still_ acted like Bonnie and Clyde and their not-so-merry little gang of triggermen were the worst people who ever lived. He never got it.

Then again, he'd since served in 2 wars long after they were both blown to Swiss cheese and buried, and he had a better idea of what people were capable of than most would ever be. It wasn't just the sick and the depraved who could kill, _anybody_ could under the right circumstances, or under _any_ circumstances, some just had to be _taught_ first. For many, it became their _job_, a government sanctioned and approved job, not just to kill, but to murder, they were trained to kill, ergo there was premeditation involved, heavily. Before he'd joined the Army he had never killed anyone and didn't think the odds would be too likely that he ever would, barring self defense of course, he knew that risk was always there, but to pick up a high powered rifle and blow somebody's brains out because they're an enemy you never even met or knew, he never would've imagined it would be _him_ holding the smoking weapon in a situation like that.

Once you've seen war, you start questioning everything you ever knew about terms of 'right and wrong' and what made killings and murder so shocking, what was considered and what was often overlooked. One member of the Barrow gang had been 16 years old, and he killed 2 people. From 1965 till the early 1970s, millions of boys who were just barely old enough to drive were sent halfway around the world, trained and prepped to kill and die, and between the two, who had more reason to kill? Who was given the more reason to kill? He seemed to recall a lot of selling points about there was no war in Vietnam, it was just advisory work, everybody was just going over for training, it was merely a police sanction, everybody would be home soon, yes they would, in rubber bags, in pieces, if at all. The soldiers had more reason to kill alright, but they killed the wrong people, instead they should've been given full approval to kill everybody who was responsible for them being flown over to Vietnam and dropped into the middle of a war zone with no warning.

Hannibal dug his fingernails out of the arm of his chair…that was the thing, once you actually killed someone, and what more when it became a daily way of life, coming home didn't mean that you just shut it off. The training was still there, the knowhow, the logic behind it, kill the enemy, but just because a war was over didn't mean there weren't still enemies, and what did you do when those enemies were also from your own country, were in fact the people _running_ it? The more he thought about it, it seemed that if the things their commanding officers and drill instructors had taught them so many years ago really _were_ the right, efficient things to do, they would've come back and shown what good soldiers they were by blowing away the people who had turned on them. Instead they sought a different route, a far less violent one in which everybody still lived, bad soldiering no doubt by the military's standards, but he preferred _this_ way of fighting the war that was still ongoing between them and the government. The end wasn't anywhere in sight just yet, but Hannibal knew it was there, and they would find it. Somehow, someway, a time would come when they wouldn't have to do this, live like this anymore, until then they would just keep on as they always had and continue doing what they'd been doing for the last 10 years or so.

Things were changing though, and Hannibal knew it. Now there would be a new headquarters, and it would be improved because it would be three of them living there fulltime instead of just one of them. It was out of the way of a lot of neighbors, nobody would be able to come nosing around undetected, the house was in Murdock's father's name, and because everybody knew that Murdock was already living with Jean at her house, who would get curious about a second house in his old man's name? Hell, most people weren't even aware Murdock's father was still alive, nobody would even have to make the connection. The more Hannibal thought about it, the more he liked this new plan.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by somebody knocking on the door. He looked and saw Murdock standing in the doorway, rapping on the open door.

"You ready to go, Colonel?" he asked.

Hannibal smiled and got up, "Yeah, Murdock, just having one last look around at the old place. Everybody waiting down there?"

"Well we're all ready to go when you are…you manage to get your deposit back from the landlord?" Murdock asked.

"Yep," Hannibal tapped the breast pocket of his jacket, "Right here."

"If that ain't a miracle," Murdock laughed, and continued to look around at the place, especially up towards the ceiling. "But I sure know what you mean," Murdock said as he walked in with his hands thrust deep in his pockets as he ogled around, "Lot of fond memories in this place."

Hannibal nodded as he picked up his chair, "Lot of good times here."

"Course, plenty of bad ones too," Murdock added, "And a whole lot of just crazy times…" he laughed as he looked up and said, "Why, I'll just bet if these walls could talk…"

"I'd burn the place down I would," Hannibal replied gleefully with a knowing smirk, "Come on, Murdock, let's get out of here."

"Right," Murdock took a quick look around to make sure that they hadn't forgotten anything. Most of the furniture was staying behind because it had come with the apartment, and besides they already had the house fully furnished so they really didn't need another couch, another kitchen table, another bed, etc. He decided they hadn't forgotten anything, and with that he started pushing Hannibal's chair and headed out the door, calling behind him, "Ready to go home, Colonel?"

Home. Now that made him stop. That was a word that had taken on many different shapes and forms over the years, and it just hit him now it was about to take on another. He was leaving this place, and going _home_.

"You bet, Captain," he replied, "Let's blow this joint."

Hannibal followed behind him, but once he reached the door, he turned back for one final look at the old place that was now a shell, a hollow memory of what it once was and what had happened here. Hannibal reached over and turned off the lights, and closed the door behind him.


End file.
